Harbinger of Blood
by LordAnarchy666
Summary: Harry's flight from Voldemort did not go as planned. His luck cannot continue forever as he learns the price of existence. More often than not, the price of power is greater than just your soul. Post-GoF. M for gore/sex/language Vampire!Harry HP/DG
1. Flight from Death

_Run!_

That was Harry's only though at the moment. Nay, his only instinct. The primal instinct of survival, to live to fight another day.

Harry's famed Gryffindor bravery went straight out the window the moment Cedric Diggory was killed right in front of his eyes.

_He had to get out of there!_

Harry dodged incoming spells as if his life depended on it. And after a shout from Voldemort of "Kill him!" he knew his life did depend on his ability to _get the fuck out of there!_

Immedietly Harry was forced to dodge behind a gravestone as the telltale green flare of the Killing Curse soared at him.

He looked all around him for a way out as the granite headstone took a few more hits before disintegrating completely.

The portkey!

That is what the ghosts that came out of Voldemort's wand told him.

Harry ran and fired off some of his own spells as a distraction. He doubted anything he could cast at the moment would do any significant damage.

With not a moment to spare, Harry grabbed both Cedric's body and the Portkey Triwizard cup. He waited for any sign of the portkey trigger- the feeling of being hooked by the navel, spinning, and being dropped unceremoniously on the ground.

But none of that happened. In fact, nothing happened at all.

Harry realized the folly of his mistake. The enemy did not make the Portkey two ways. There was no reason to, so why would the caster expend the effort to do so? In fact, Harry had never even heard of a portkey being two-way before.

The panicking wizard dropped the Cup with desperation, and gave an apologizing look to Cedric's body as he started to run once more.

Harry could hear the pursuers hot on his tail as he rushed out of the graveyard and into the nearby town.

There was one thing that could be said about Harry as he ran down the road. All the years of Quidditch and Harry Hunting have made him fast. However, that was before he participated in the Triwizard Maze was the unwilling participant in Voldemort's rebirthing ritual, and got his ass kicked in a one-sided duel.

Now, his entire body groaned with agony and pain. He would not give in to fatigue, as to give it would be to die. He has lived through too much in his short lifetime to die now. He is _The Boy-Who-Lived_ after all. He lived when no one else could.

Harry ran all the way until he made it into the next town over. The death eaters were still close on his tail, being a lot fresher than Harry was physically.

He spared a glance to look at some of the signs on the stores alongside the road. A few of them had the name of the same town; Greater Hangleton.

That name meant nothing to him though.

There were not many people out at this time of the night, and if there were, they were most likely up to no good and paid no attention to the fleeing boy.

Harry took a turn down a side street, and then down an alley, and back onto another main road.

He kept running, sporadically turning down random alleys. After about 10 more minutes he stopped hearing his pursuers altogether.

Harry was starting to think that he had thrown off the chasers, and was wondering how to escape back to Hogwarts and safety.

There was no warning. A man smashed into Harry as he jogged past an alleyway. He did not hear or see the man.

The man threw Harry up against the wall, hurting the already beaten and bruised wizard.

Harry only had time to look up at his attacker before he was thrown once more. The man looked average, although there was an odd glint in his eyes that he could not place. The man was clearly a muggle, and there was no sign of anybody nearby to help. Not even Death Eaters.

The attacker took Harry's face and grinded it up against the brick wall of the alleyway store. Harry was beyond pain now, with scrapes and bruises all over, and blood rushing out of his wounds. His wand was somewhere on the ground, having dropped it when he was smashed into the wall for a second time.

Harry was struggling to even pull himself up to his knees.

"Please… What do you want?" Harry managed to ask in between mouthfuls of blood and dirt.

The man was not done though. He said nothing as he picked Harry up effortlessly and threw him against a metal bin.

The distinct sound of breaking bones was heard and Harry nearly passed out from the pain.

Harry managed to open one eye and attempted to give the man a defiant look.

He knew he was going to die. He knew that his flight from death was all for naught, and in the end it was this savage man who won.

At least Harry would die knowing that it was not Voldemort who killed him. He would deny the Dark Lord that pleasure one last time.

The man knew he had won and saw the boy in front of him was destroyed. He walked over slowly to the fallen wizard and bent down in front of him, making eye contact.

A shiver went up his spine as he saw the unnaturalness in the man's eyes. Harry's single undamaged eye widened with shock when the man opened his mouth and bared his teeth – no, his fangs.

The man grabbed Harry and bit right into his neck.

Harry tried to cry out, but he was too much in shock to do much of anything. He felt his extremities tingle as the blood rushed from them and out of his neck.

His arms flailed around on the ground, searching for something, anything. His vision was blackening as his blood kept pouring out.

Harry's hand brushed up against an object. He didn't know what it was and it didn't matter. Anything, _anything,_ to help.

He swung the empty beer bottle he picked up as hard as he could, smashing it over the man's head. The bottle shattered, showering them both with glass causing many small lacerations to the both of them.

However, it had the desired effect of dislodging the man from Harry's neck.

Harry knew it was already too late. He didn't even think a miracle could save him now, not even phoenix tears.

He wanted to take the bastard out with him though. With broken beer bottle still in his hand, he stabbed straight up at the exposed man's face.

The makeshift shank sunk home. Blood from the man poured all over Harry; on his face, into his wounds, and even into Harry's disfigured mouth.

Harry coughed when the blood hit his mouth, but his jaw was so damaged that he accidently swallowed some of it. _Disgusting_. Along with choking on his own blood, he had another man's blood dripping down his throat, and his neck was too destroy to cough it up properly.

The man in question was on the ground having what looked like a fit, while clutching at his face.

Harry rolled backwards off the bin and was now laying on the ground as well. He had one last look at the man who killed him. He watched in detached fascination as the man spontaneously burst into flames. He put it off as a hallucination, after all, he was at death's gates and the line between reality and the afterworld is blurred.

Harry cough up one last time, expecting to taste blood once more, but he had no more left.

He closed his eyes and knew no more. A wisp of black smoke could be seen escaping from the forehead of the fallen boy-hero, but there would be no one around to witness their savior's death.

* * *

Minister Fudge was in a panic. He lobbied so hard for the Triwizard tournament to be brought to his country. Now something had gone wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Both of the Hogwarts Champions have been missing for hours, and naturally his country was blaming the French. Granted, there were a few blaming Durmstrang, but there was a lot more hatred being directed towards their cheese-eating allies.

There is a helpful tidbit of information that Fudge learned upon taking the office. The public doesn't care about something as silly as _facts_, all they care about is _opinion._ If an idea is popular enough amongst the plebeians, then that is as good as the word of Merlin himself, regardless of the truthiness.

They ignore the fact that both Delacour and Krum were inflicted with unforgivables; the imperious and Cruciatus. All they cared about was that their two champions were missing.

Even Fudge could tell that something else was happening that did not single out just one group of individuals. All the schools were affected, but it just happened that Hogwarts had two champions, one of which was their beloved boy-savior, and both of which were missing. Missing!

He had Amelia working the case. The head of the Department for Magical Law enforcement was very good at her job. Fudge only wished he had more witches like her.

The most annoying part about the whole situation is that Amelia already had a dozen of her aurors supervising the Third Task, and something like this still managed to happen. The only thing they manage to conclude is that there are traces of Portkey magic, meaning that the Winner's Cup that both the boys touched at the same time transported them to some unknown location.

Amelia had teams tracking the magic while Fudge had nothing to do but contemplate his own future. The ministry could detect unauthorized portkey use instantly, but tracking it could be very tricky, especially when other magic is at play.

The public would have his head surely if any harm befell any the students. If the savior of the wizarding world _died_ on his watch, then all hell would break loose. The ones highest up always fall hardest, and it does not get any higher up than the Minister.

He was a politician first and foremost. It was his duty to inform the public that they are safe, not under any threat, and to quell any fears. There are still people out in the world who would make it their duty to destroy Harry Potter. There are still many Death Eater out their biding their time, wanting to revenge their fallen master, and at the top of that list is Sirius Black. The notorious mass murderer is still at large, and would be his immediate suspect to this disaster.

A few minutes of introspection later, and Fudge was interrupted out of his thoughts by the arrival of an Auror with bright pink hair. Pink of all the colors!

The Minster listened in as the Auror gave her report. A lot of the technical jargon surrounding portkey tracing went right over his head. Something about unauthorized portkey use, and tracking it to an unplottable land.

"Director Bones, we have a lead."

"Continue." Amelia Bones acknowledged.

"We traced the portkey to a Graveyard in Little Hangleton. We found Cedric Diggory there- he's dead. Struck down with the killing curse. The cemetery is a wreck. There are blown up tombstones and traces of dark magic all over the place. There was a fight there, but there is no sign of Harry or any other attackers. There was no sign of the portkey, who ever did it cleaned up after themselves."

Amelia bones let out a sigh of frustration. "Very well, continue the search. Look through the nearby town. Greater Hangleton I believe it is called."

"Sure thing Boss."

* * *

It was another two hours later when the same Auror reported back, this time looking grief stricken. "Report Auror Tonks."

Auror Tonks spoke up shakily. It was always up to the FNG to report news like this. There is a saying, 'shit flows downhill,' and with the news she was about to report, it was no question as to why the new recruit got the duty.

"We found him, or rather, we found what we think is the remains of him. Massive puddle of blood we determined to be Harry's. It was found in an alleyway, and there are smears all over the brick walls and a metal container there as well. Whoever did this to the boy did not hold back… with the amount of blood found, there is no way that Harry is still alive. Plus we found these."

Tonks pull an item out of her pocket. It was Harry's glasses. The frame was mangled and the lenses were cracked.

"Any signs of the attacker?"

"Nothing. Not a single trace of magic. It could have been a muggle gang who did this."

Amelia wasn't one to show emotions, but this news was devastating. The child savior of the wizarding world was dead, a huge blow to all of Britain for sure. "Very well. I'll take the necessary steps."

Naturally it was the biggest news since Voldemort's downfall and it was already in the paper two hours later.

_**Tri Wizard Tournament Disaster!**_

_**Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory found dead!**_

_By Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter._

_It is my sad duty of this reporter to report on the greatest tragedy Britain has seen this century. During an unforeseen series of events, the Tri-Wizard cup was charmed into a portkey by perpetrators unknown and it transported both of our beloved champions to a location not revealed to us._

_After many hours of panic, a lone Auror reported back with news that they found Cedric Diggory's body struck down by the unforgivable Killing Curse. There were signs of a great battle at the location, not much more is known than that._

_Our savior Harry Potter was not found until two hours later in the nearby muggle village. It seems as if the young champion was trying to escape his foe, but in the end our tired 14 year old savior was no match for the attacker. A massive amount of blood and his trademark glasses are all that were found. We can only hope that his body is returned to us unsoiled._

_When asked if this is the work of Notorious Mass Murderer Sirius Black finally finishing what he started all those years ago, there are no confirmed reports but the Minister says it is highly likely. Our condolences go out to the families._

_

* * *

_

Sirius Black's week could not go any worse. He knew the Triwizard Tournament was very dangerous and even more so for his 14 year old Godson.

He didn't know what James would say to him if he found out that Harry was kidnapped during the final task. And under Dumbledore and the Ministry's eyes as well.

The Firewhiskey he was drinking did not care though. In fact, it comforted him in his time of need. He had just recently moved back into his old childhood home at Grimmauld place, and was christening it by drowning his sorrows in his best friend named Alcohol.

It was always there for him when he needed it and it never asked awkward questions. It truly was a man's best friend. It could even get you laid.

Sirius was sober enough to notice an owl tapping at the window, so he got up to open it. He managed to only stumbled twice before he managed to open the latch.

He took the paper and read the heading. There was a sudden stillness before Sirius threw the paper on ground and let out an inhuman scream.

* * *

The students of Hogwarts were in a somber mood. A fellow student was dead, and another missing. Even the Slytherins dared not flaunt.

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger just arrived in the great hall to eat a melancholy breakfast. It was only a few minutes before a hoard of owls flew in.

They both burst into tears when they read the headline.

Ginny Weasley picked up the discarded paper, read the headline and also burst into tears. She ran out of the room to mourn the loss of her prince charming.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was at a loss of words for the first time in his life.

He stood up from his chair at the teacher's table in order to say a few words to the breakfast eaters. He attempted to say something. His mouth opened, and closed a few times, unable to say anything. He looked oddly reminiscent of a fish.

Everyone in the hall was now looking up at him for guidance, but he was unable to formulate a coherent sentence.

He sat down to avoid further embarrassment and buried his face in his hands.

* * *

Petunia Dursley was having a wonderful day. Her flowers were blooming vibrant, and her garden looked much better than Mrs. Number Two Privet Drive.

Her routine morning of watering her daisies was interrupted by the site of an owl flying at her, holding a bundle.

She nearly fainted right there and then. She looked around to see if any of the neighbors saw this freakishness before pulling the bundle from the owl's care.

Petunia read the headline and immediately gave a fist pump and shouted "YES!"

She looked around abashed, to see if any of the neighbors saw her outburst.

Petunia cleared her throat , "Er… yes!" She repeated, this time in a much lower voice. "Got to show Vernon and Dudders, they will be so ecstatic!"

* * *

Author's notes

I will keep this brief.

Story is rated M. There will be blood, gore, and sex. Genres can include- Dark Arts, Independent Harry, action/adventure/horror

I got 9 chapters of this story already finished, over 30k words. Pairing is already decided, but that will have to wait. This is sort of a rewrite to my story HP and the meaning of life. There is a couple scenes reminiscent of it, but after this chapter the two stories essentially go their own way.

I want to take this down a far darker route than the previous story.

Second chapter will be up sometime later today.

I enjoy worthwhile feedback, such as grammatical and spelling mistakes. I do a lot of proof reading and editing, but I am hardly an expert and it is possible some things escaped my net.

And here is a shout out to DLP. Join our C2 at .net/community/DLP_5_Starred_and_Featured_Authors/84507/

It is the only c2 worth a damn, and many stories far superior to my own are in its library.


	2. Nosferatu

Harry woke up in a world of darkness.

He opened his eyes and immedietly vomited the meager contents of his stomach. His eyes took in the details around him, his mind racing ten thousand thoughts a second.

What was going on?

He died. He remembered dying.

But he was alive.

But Harry was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He examined his body and was surprised to see that it was in remarkably good repair, at least compared to yesterday. His broken bones seemed to have healed completely.

The surroundings around him looked dark and gloomy. The sun had just gone down over the horizon when he woke up, and now the town was engulfed by twilight. He noticed that he was not wearing his glasses, and realized he no longer needed them. His vision actually seemed to be improved from when he wore them.

Harry noticed he was about a hundred feet from where he remembered dying, so he walked over to examine the scene.

He looked over at where his assailant was, but there was nothing but a pile of dust and blood. Harry's own body was covered with a copious amount of blood, and not all of it dried.

His thoughts went back to trying to remember what happened to him. His eyes raked over the metal bin. There was rubbish overflowing out the top, but his eyes were drawn over to the large blood stains that painted the metal and ground.

The memory came back to him immedietly. Voldemort… Cedric dying… Running for his life… Being assaulted by a man that he stabbed with a bottle and then _burst into flames_.

And his own eventual Death.

Death?

What was this then? The next great adventure?

Harry didn't know what was happening. His mind could not come to any conclusions. He _knew_ he died. Something odd was going on, but he was not sure what.

Something was _off_ but he could not identify it. Something with him, something internal, something essential.

Harry heard the sound of a lorry's engine backfiring from the next street over as he looked for his wand. He winced as the loud sound beat on his ears.

The wand was half hidden under a discarded paper. He briefly looked at the cover of the paper and was surprised at the date.

It was the 28th. Three days since the task. Three days since Voldemort regained his body. Three days since he died.

With wand in his hand, he attempted to remove the blood and grim off his clothes with a '_scourgify'_.

Harry was beyond shocked when nothing happened. He then realized that he was not feeling a connection to his wand at all. The wand felt like a mundane stick off a tree rather than the prized tool of a wizard.

Harry could still feel the presence of the magic inside his own body, but for whatever reason, he could not express it through a wand. He did notice that he tried to cast it silently as well, as his voice did not seem to be working.

He pocketed his wand and headed out into the street. He didn't know what to do or where to go, or how to get there even if he did know.

Harry stumbled out into the road. His sense of balance seemed to be off along with his magic. He had to quickly dodge a speeding hot hatch as he tumbled to the other side of the road.

A woman yelled from behind him as he reached the curb. Her voice reminded Harry of his Aunt Petunia and her shrill screaming. His ears hated him, and he wanted nothing more than to get away from this lady. He entered through the nearest door, hoping to get away from the loud sounds.

* * *

Jen Woolcroft had a lovely day at work. She worked as electronic technician at the TVR facility in nearby Blackpool.

She liked to think she had a good life as a working mom. She had a decent house, drove a BMW, and had a loving husband and son.

Jed just got finished with her afternoon shift and was heading home. Monday was her family's typical night for take-out Chinese. It has been a family tradition of sorts ever since she had gotten married.

Every Monday after work, Jen would drive over to the Lotus Chinese Restaurant in Greater Hangleton.

Tonight was no different as she parked her car on the curb.

Her night changed drastically, however, when she saw a kid with red stains over himself stumble across the road. The kid looked to be injured, and he just missed a driving auto by a few feet as he made it across the street.

Jen, being the fine upstanding citizen she is, followed after him. She got within five feet of him and realized that those stains upon the boy were actually blood stains.

She knew something was definitely wrong, so she yelled out to the other passersby to get a constable as she rushed after him.

When Jen yelled, the boy panicked and ran into the nearby building. The building was vacated, but was once a café that closed down about two years ago.

Jen hesitated only briefly before following the scared and bloodied boy in. She entered through the doors, and looked around for any sign of him.

There was no sign of the kid at all. It looked like nothing had been disturbed for many years.

She turned around to leave, but saw something reflect from a darkened shadow of one of the corners. She slowly walked closer and saw that it was the glint of a wristwatch from the outside lighting.

That wristwatch was attached to the boy, who did not seem to be moving at all. Not even breathing.

Jen slowly inched over to the boy. Once she got within arm's distance she got the surprise of her life.

The boy leaped at her with the force of a pouncing jaguar. The boy's fist slammed into her face and she felt her jaw dislocate from the hit. She stumbled into the wall from the forceful blow, but the boy was not done with her yet.

The boy charged at her once more as she tried to leave through the door. He grabbed Jen by the arm, spun, and threw her into the unforgiving wall.

She groaned as she felt bones break. Too many thoughts were going through her mind as her body got slowly destroyed.

Her wounds were numerous as the boy grabbed her by her hair, dragging her back up onto her knees.

She didn't even want to know what the vicious attacker had planned for her, but whatever it was, it would not be good.

Seconds passed as she wondered where the attacker went. Jen was about to turn around to look, but just as she thought that she felt herself fly through the glass display case that was in front of her. The glass tore her skin and she knew she was a goner.

The boy was on top of her right away, lifting her up from the glassy tomb and smashing her against the wall. That action seemed impossibly fast to her disjointed mind. She cried in pain once again as she was decimated.

A hand harshly smashed her right breast into her chest to pin her against the wall, but that was the least of her worries as she felt something sharp pierce into her neck.

Jen blearily opened one eye and saw that it was the kid's mouth biting onto her neck. She could not even comprehend what that hell was happening. All she knew is that there was more blood out of her body than in her body, and her vision was getting very cloudy.

Without warning, the kid pulled his face away and made eye contact with her. That was before he ripped out her throat with his fingernails.

* * *

The haze lifted off his mind as Harry surveyed the carnage before him. He didn't know why he did it. He could not fathom what would make him slaughter that woman like this.

Harry fell to his knees and silently sobbed as he observed the blood covering his hands. He turned his hands over and saw that his nails seemed to be slightly pointy and sharp. Bits of skin and muscle were clinging to them, proof of the deed.

But that voice in the back of his head… _instinct._ It was his instincts that told him to attack. Just like it was his instincts that told him to run from the graveyard.

But _Why?_

Why did he have to kill her? He just had this sudden insatiable urge to maul her, to main her, to _kill_ her. And to drink her blood.

Nothing made any sense.

He turned around to look at the trashed glass display case. He looked at the polished aluminium and expected to see his reflection staring back at him, but instead he saw nothing but the room.

His mind raced at the implications of this. Harry's thoughts went back to the night this all happened. That man… No, it was something else. Something not of this world.

He now remembered the man biting his neck, just like he bit that woman's neck.

And those fangs… That man drank his blood, just like he just drank that woman's blood.

Vampire.

The word alone shattered his world.

All the pieces fell into place with sudden clarity.

Fangs. The silent assault. Unnatural strength. Quickness the belied his natural ability.

Drinking blood. The bloodlust that turned him into an uncontrollable monster.

But how did it happen… He had to consume the vampire's blood to become infected with this disease, this curse.

Then he remembered. He stabbed the Vampire in the face with a broken bottle. The vampire's blood splashed all over him, and into his own wounds. And into his mouth. He must have involuntarily swallowed some, but apparently that was enough to change him, to turn him. He wondered why the vampire burst into fire though, that was something that he could not explain. His knowledge on vampires was limited.

The implications scared him, and also excited him. Harry has been given second chance at… existing. A second chance to make a difference in the world. The possibilities were numerous.

Harry stood up and realized the odd feelings he was having from earlier. Enhanced hearing, better sight, better smell. And he wasn't even breathing.

He raised his fist and punched down into the wooden counter, and saw that he did significant damage. His hand had several cuts in it now, but he watched in fascination as they slowly closed up on their own accord.

_What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger._

The age old adage never rang truer.

It was hard to get his head around the idea vampirism, of being one himself now. _He would have rather died,_ Harry thought to himself, but he couldn't actually bring himself to believe that.

He wondered what his friends would think, if they knew he was now what the Ministry considered a Dark Creature. Hell, he was more dangerous than a werewolf now, given that vampirism is an every day and night thing.

Ron and his family would invariably shun him for being dangerous. He wouldn't blame them, he couldn't control himself when that woman chased after him, and killed her as a result. What would stop that from happening again?

Even now, he still felt the urge for blood. Faint that it was, having just fed, he now placed that feeling as a craving for blood.

Hermione would try to console him and look for more information in the library. But even she would slowly start to distance herself from him. There is no cure, and she would realize that there is no saving him from his fate.

Hagrid… Harry grinned at the thought of what the half-giant would say. "Yer a Vampire, 'Arry. An' a thumpin' good un I'd reckon."

Sirius and Remus would probably be okay with him at first. Lupin is a werewolf and knows firsthand the prejudice that Harry is going to face, and would be the most understanding out of anyone. Sirius is his friend, and would not discriminate. But Vampirism does not have a trigger like Lycanthropy does. He is a vampire all the time, not even fully human anymore.

Dumbledore would keep him under lock and key, just like he is doing with Sirius. Perhaps he would be let out once they discovered a use for him, but the elder wizard was unpredictable at the best of times and downright erratic all the time.

But it was also Dumbledore's fault that he ended up as a vampire. It was under his watchful eyes that Cedric was killed. The venerable headmaster has failed to prevent a tragedy from happening in the school for the 4th year running.

Harry would not be there anymore to clean up the mess. The chance of allowing a vampire into the school would be nonexistent. Surely by now the Ministry has reported his demise, and it would be hard to write that off when Harry suddenly appears at the school. Of course, it could be weaved into a tale of miraculous survival that adds to his fame as the 'boy-who-lived' and put him up on a pedestal higher than Merlin. He did not want that.

He briefly entertained the notion of vengeance when another thought came across his mind.

He could outlive them all.

Harry had some more immediate concerns though, like what he should be doing right now.

Shelter.

He needed shelter. He knew vampires slept during the day, if 'sleep' is the right word. Lupin did teach his class a few lessons on vampires, some on their lifestyle, but mostly on how to defend against them.

Harry struggled to remember those lessons though. He knew that vampires feared the light, and being exposed to it for even a few minutes could be fatal. There was probably a difference from being exposed to direct sunlight and that of ambient light on an overcast day, but he did not want to learn the hard way.

He had to find shelter for the daylight hours. He would essentially sleep like a dead person during those hours. It would not do to be discovered while in that state.

In his mind, that meant sleeping in abandoned buildings, but that could be very risky. He would need some place secure that no one would be barging into randomly.

For that, he needed a place to call his own. He would need money for that. Even killing the residents of a house would eventually bring unwanted attention.

Harry looked down at the dead woman in front of him. He did not feel any emotion as he patted her down and found her money.

A c-note, a few twenties, and a fiver. One hundred and forty five quid in all. Not much, but it was his. He did earn it, in his mind.

Spoils of war.

He wished he could contact anyone, but he couldn't. Not because he didn't want to, but because he simply did not have a method available. No owls, no floo, no broom, no portkey, no apparition.

Harry's wand would still not respond to him, probably because he was a vampire. He proved this to himself as he attempted to call the knight-bus like he did two summers ago.

He held his wand out a right angle and kept his arm perfectly straight.

Nothing happened.

The bus is "transportation for the stranded witch or wizard", and without being able to use a wand, he could hardly be considered a wizard.

Harry did hold onto some hope. There were some magics that could be done without a wand. Apparition was one of them. Animagi was another. Metamorphmagus a third.

None of which he had the ability to do.

But there were others. Being able to create potions would be an obvious one. But there are magics he was unfamiliar with. Hermione always talked about arithmancy and runic magic, but he knew nothing of those. All he knew is that they did not require a wand.

Harry decided he had to get out of the building before someone decided to check in on the disturbance.

However, he was too late. A bobby walked through the door with a baton in hand. The woman's cry for help before she entered the store must have been heard; else maybe the sound of the woman being thrown through a glass display was too loud.

They both saw each other at the same time.

"Hey you!"

Harry looked down at himself and saw that he was covered in blood. All the minor cuts he had from the glass healed themselves. He then looked back up at the bobby.

All he saw was red, and an urge to make it go away.

Harry pounced once more.

The constable raised his baton to strike but he was too slow for Harry's sudden burst of speed.

Harry ripped the baton out of the constable's hand as he plowed into the man.

Harry knocked the man right on his ass and punched him once in the face before bringing down the stolen baton onto his temple.

Harry instinctively brought his mouth down to the man's neck, bit down, and drank once more.

He felt the man's heart speed up as he drained him, but then start to miss a few beats before faltering all together.

The haze in Harry's mind cleared just as he felt the man's heart beat for the last time.

He immedietly dropped the man and fell to the ground. He shuffled all the way back to the wall, trying to distance himself as much as possibly from the carnage he wrought once again with his own hands.

Harry hated himself. He didn't hate that he killed once again; he was oddly indifferent towards that.

What he did hate was the fact that he could not control himself. His mind processed an attacker and his body responded right away.

The sole comfort was that the loss of control did not seem to last as long as the first time. Maybe the loss of control would eventually disappear with experience? Only time would tell.

He slowly calmed down and went over to the fallen man. Harry patted down the constable and found his wallet and ID. Harry also took the baton and the man's undershirt for himself.

Harry swapped out his bloody shirt for the one with no blood on it. He walked out the front door and out into the night.

He looked up at the moon and took solace in its glowing form. He felt whole for that moment in time. Those two scuffles happened in all of 5 minutes, and he still had the rest of the night in front of him to come to terms with his unlife.

* * *

Author's notes.

There you go. Have seven more chapters already finished. I am just giving each one a final once-over before posting.

I enjoy worthwhile feedback, such as grammatical and spelling mistakes. I do a lot of proof reading and editing, but I am hardly an expert and it is possible some things escaped my net.

And here is a shout out to DLP. Join our C2 at .net/community/DLP_5_Starred_and_Featured_Authors/84507/

It is the only c2 worth a damn, and many stories far superior to my own are in its library.


	3. Turn the Page

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin; First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, was showing an uncharacteristic display of anxiety.

Those titles may not be his most important ones in this day and age though. He is the Headmaster of Britain's most famous school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. He is also the founder and leader of The Order of the Phoenix; and organization formed over 20 years previous to combat the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Dumbledore was currently pacing around in his office, in front of the members of the Order, which included several Teachers, Aurors, and previous Hogwarts students from the 70's.

The members of the Order present were talking in low voices amongst themselves while waiting for news from other members who held tactical positions.

Dumbledore would periodically examine a few of the silvery instruments that lay strewn about his office. One in particular was clearly malfunction, puffing out black smoke in irregular intervals. This one disappointed the Headmaster the most, it was the one that monitored Harry Potter's health, and the black smoke meant that he was dead.

That could be the biggest shock their world faced at the current moment, if it were not for what spurned on the tragedy.

That in itself was an ongoing mystery. Dumbledore had many ideas, but with the severity of the situation, he feared the backlash a wrong conclusion could cause.

Voldemort.

But how? His spy Severus Snape had felt his Dark Mark burn with the beckoning, and he had sent the potion master to answer it. That was three days ago.

This could mean any number of things, but the answer was not going to be good regardless.

How had the cup been turned into a portkey? How long had the plan existed? Obviously it went back to before the tournament began when Harry Potter became the unwilling 4th champion.

There were no signs at all during the school year of anything amiss. Snape's Dark Mark had been getting darker for years and that trend continued through the year, so that was not a good indicator.

However, there was the attack at the Quidditch World Cup. Death Eater's on the move. Harry Potter's and Cedric Diggory's death _could_ be the work of those Death Eater's, but his instincts told him that something much more foul was afoot. Not many of the Death Eater's out there had the intelligence to pull off such a plan, most of the ones who could were rotting away in Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy had the ability to do it, but he has always been monitored closely enough to whereas something fishy would have been discovered.

It had to be Voldemort. Dumbledore knew Voldemort had to be up to something, ever since his reemergence during Harry's first year and the Philosopher's Stone incident.

But he needed information. It is hard to fight an enemy that you cannot see. The downfall of being a protector and being on the defensive is that you always react to the situations, rather than being proactive. It is impossible to go on the offensive against a group of people you cannot find.

Wars are won on lost on the flow of information. Dumbledore had none. His spy, Snape, could either be dead, or defected. Hopefully he was maintaining his cover, and he hoped his trust was not misplaced.

There was some information that Dumbledore did have, however, that could change the tide of the battle.

A prophecy.

A prophecy in itself is a very tricky thing, and usually self fulfilling. Notoriously difficult to interpret correctly as well. Dumbledore feared that he may in fact have misinterpreted the prophecy tying both Voldemort and Harry Potter together in life.

The prophecy states that _either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survive._

Dumbledore thought it was clear that they had to kill each other in the end, and that both were essentially impervious until that has happened. And after one of them was dead, the other would be able to be killed.

Now logic would state that Voldemort was the one who killed Harry. Voldemort should be the only one who could actually kill Harry according to the prophecy.

With that knowledge in mind, Voldemort should now be mortal and be able to be killed by anyone. That duty would sure come down to Dumbledore himself, as the prophecy was the reason Dumbledore could not kill him before, despite being more powerful.

But Dumbledore had other suspicions as well. Voldemort had delved deeper into black magic than any other in hundreds of years. This was evidenced by the fact that he survived the killing curse that rebounded off Harry, and they both lived.

Dumbledore theorized that love saved Harry, but what saved Voldemort? Black magic of the foulest kind, magic that even Dumbledore could hardly believe anyone would be capable of.

The prophecy may no longer be active now, but that was hardly a morale booster.

The Order members kept talking in morose tones to their neighbors as they waited through the night for any information.

None would come. For the 3rd consecutive night nothing happened at all, good or bad. The anxiety of waiting was the worst part of all.

* * *

Harry ran for all he was worth. He didn't know why he was running, he just knew that he could.

He was fast, very fast. At least twice as fast as he was before. His vision was crisp and clear in the night time, and his hearing could pick up sounds from a distance that no one else could.

His sense of touch though, that changed. Hot and cold were not quite as sensational as he remembered from being alive. Fire though, he knew that would be bad.

His skin color was still normal, but that would most likely change after a few weeks of being out of the sun, and the fact that the blood in his veins was solely dependent on how much he drank.

Harry didn't know how often he would have to drink, or what would happen if he drank too much, or drank too little. He did know that he could no longer process normal food. He tried that and threw it up immedietly.

He did not fear having pale skin. Many Brits were already pasty white and he would probably blend in in the House of Commons.

No, the problem was that he did not make a sound when walking, even with shoes on. That was simply unnatural. And then there was the fangs. They were not very large, and you would not see them unless you were close and his mouth was open, and by then it would be too late. Not to mention he did not have a reflection. That would be hard to explain. He didn't even know what his face looked like now. And he could not think of a way to see it. He did not appear in reflections and by extension, photographs or video.

It was as if he simply did not exist.

And for all intents and purposes, he didn't.

He had no doubts that Dumbledore and the Ministry was searching for him, but he couldn't think of how they would find him. He couldn't really help either. Travelling there on foot would be quite difficult, as London was over 200 miles away, and he didn't fancy running on the side of the motorway.

He didn't even want to imagine the kind of welcome he would receive upon his discovery. Nothing good would come out of the initial confrontation.

For now, he had to take care of himself.

Harry managed to walk to the end of the town. Along the way he managed to pickpocket two people for about 100 pounds. It was not that hard either. He virtually made no sound and blended into shadows unnaturally well.

The outer limits of the town reminded him awfully of Little Whinding, but perhaps a little bit more rural.

He was looking for a shelter of some sort. A boarded up house in disarray would be ideal.

However, beggars can't be choosers. It was only a temporary solution, but the only idea he had at the moment. He did not want to be caught outside when the sun rises.

His headache seemed do go away though as the colors became duller, and the natural sounds of the environment replaced the buzz of urbanization.

The left side of the road gave away completely to forest. With his sharp eyesight he was just able to see a shoddy looking building in the distance.

He headed towards it and saw that it was an abandoned shed. The land looked like it once was farm land several decades ago, but has long since grown over. In fact, there was a burnt out shell of a farmhouse with a tree growing through it.

The shed was nothing to write home about. There were a few rusted tools about, but it was in decent condition. It was structurally sound with no holes in the roof or siding. There was dirt and dust from many years of disuse.

Harry looked out the door and saw the first signs of light coming up over the horizon. Immedietly he felt a tiredness slowly envelope himself. He closed the door and made sure there was nowhere for the light to leak in. He then found a folded up tarpaulin and spread it out over the floor.

He laid down over it and took a few minutes to contemplate his situation. Tears threaten to well up in his eyes as the unfairness of his life washed over him. He had nothing, absolutely nothing to live for, or rather, exist for.

He was cursed to forever exist as a parasite that survives solely off blood. He was cursed to watch everyone he knew to grow old and die, while he would be forever young.

Harry would never grow up. Never have a family. He would never be able to make a name for himself from his own handcrafted legacy.

He wiped away his tears with his hand and saw that his tears were actually blood. There was one thing though worth fighting for.

Revenge.

Not against the vampire who turned him in the first place, no, he was dead already.

Revenge against Voldemort. Revenge against Pettigrew. Revenge against everyone who had wronged him in his life.

Dumbledore… for failing him at every turn. From the very start of his life when he was placed at the Dursley's, to every year at Hogwarts when he nearly got killed and did nothing. Now that he actually died under the Headmaster's careful eye, he would show him.

Oh yes.

He would bring his fist down upon those who have done him harm. He would not just do it for himself, he would do it for everyone else who could not do it themselves; the true dead. Cedric… his parents… He would use this gift to right all the wrongs that occurred in his life.

A smile came across his face as the sun came over the horizon and Harry unnatural tiredness overcame him.

* * *

Sirius Black was having a rough time of things.

The cause of this was obvious; his godson, Harry Potter was gone. The only reason he had for living, and the reason he persevered for so long after escaping Azkaban. Now all there was just a lingering hatred against Pettigrew.

And now, Dumbledore _blackmailed_ him into loaning him his ancestral home to be the Order's headquarters. If it wasn't bad enough that he was an escaped convict, albeit not guilty, Dumbledore held all the means to clear his name and constantly procrastinated in doing so.

What was worse was that the Headmaster has taken to saying such phrases like "It is what Harry would have wanted." And "Harry would not approve of that."

The second one was used quite often as Sirius had taken to drinking copious amounts of Firewhiskey.

It dulled the sense of loss that he was feeling. He hadn't gotten his revenge on Peter, and Lily and James are dead, and now Harry is as well.

Lupin was having a hard time of it as well. He had taught Harry for a year, but they were not really as close. No one was really close to Harry. Lupin had the chance to at least though, as he had ample time before Harry's third year to meet the kid but he never did.

Sirius had no motivation to do anything. He couldn't really even leave his own house while Dumbledore had him by the proverbial balls.

But still, even he had hope. There was _something_ in the back of his mind telling him to not give up, and to not lose hope. He didn't know what it was, but he did not feel it would be appropriate to share his odd feelings. After all, he did spend a dozen years in Azkaban, and no one ever comes out of that place unscathed.

Hope comes from the most unlikely of sources, and for Sirius Black, his hope was at the bottom of a bottle.

* * *

Author's notes.

Filler scene pretty much to set the tone of the rest of the story. This is about the extent of Harry's angst as he slowly comes to terms with his lot in life.

Next chapter will be up shortly.

I enjoy worthwhile feedback, such as grammatical and spelling mistakes. I do a lot of proof reading and editing, but I am hardly an expert and it is possible some things escaped my net.

And here is a shout out to DLP. Join our C2 at FF.N /community/DLP_5_Starred_and_Featured_Authors/84507/

It is the only c2 worth a damn, and many stories far superior to my own are in its library.


	4. Shadows and Dust

Harry woke up with vigor. He had no waking fatigue at all and felt very fresh. He opened the door to the tiny shed and saw that it was dark out.

The night looked identical to the night before. He was not learned enough to notice the minuscule movement of the starry sky and the moon.

He mentally made a list of things he needs to accomplish during the day, no, the night. He needed money, as much as he hated to admit it. He had already killed two people, so stealing would seem like child's play. What other choice did he have? He had to make the best of his situation.

He could visit his Gringotts vault to withdraw his money. The goblins would not care that he was dead, and they would keep that information to themselves. If necessary, he could use force. Dead goblins cannot tell any secrets. He could even visit Knockturn Alley and would probably be more normal compared to other clientele.

A base of operations was his first priority. A safe haven, and a means of transportation to reach it. A reusable portkey would be ideal, and as those were illegal, Knockturn Alley would be the place to go. But he needed someplace to call a home if he were to facilitate the need of said portkey.

Harry didn't really have a plan. He has always been the 'make shit up as go you' kind of person. He followed his heart and always tried to make the best of a situation.

The biggest problem was his limitations as a vampire. He was restricted to nighttime, and that was a big restriction. He didn't know what would happen during the day even if he was locked inside a pitch black box. The blood hunger he would deal with as it happened, but it was less frequent than having to eat normally. Right now his hunger for blood was minimal, but it had been less than a day since he last consumed.

Harry walked out to the edge of the woods, keeping mental note of landmarks in case he had to come back here.

He made it to the highway and tried to figure out which direction London was in. It was a 50/50 chance; he was either right, or he wasn't.

Harry waited for a car to pass before he made his move. It was about 5 minutes before he saw the lights of an auto. He had to cover his face with his arm to prevent his sensitive eyes from damage. The sound was not of a car, but from a box van.

The van passed him by, but he quickly reached out and grabbed onto the back as it drove on, the driver oblivious to the unwanted passenger it just picked up.

Harry held onto the back of the van for probably 15 miles before the van branched off the main road. He held on until he saw a nice looking house pass by. He dropped off and rolled a few times on the grass on the side of the road.

He brushed himself off as he stood up. There was no damage except his dirty clothes. Harry decided it wouldn't hurt to have a look around. There was a Porche 911 in the driveway, and if that was the sort of car you kept outside, he wondered what was in the three car garage.

He walked around to the back, oblivious of the person who was watching him from the second story window.

The back door was unlocked, and he simply walked in.

Harry had no clue what he was doing, as he had never robbed a house before. He had no real interest in physical items, but rather cash. Of course, it was possible he could find something interesting, but it was a muggle home and the chance of that was slim.

He made his way into the kitchen. He knew his Aunt and Uncle kept a jar with cash in a cabinet in their kitchen, and he wondered if the family did the same thing here.

There was complete silence as he picked through the cabinets, searching for his goal. The silence was broken with a sound of "Thief! Freeze!"

Harry reacted immedietly. He turned around and went to jump at the old man with whatever item was currently in his hand; in this case, a jar of peanut butter.

The old man reacted with even quicker ferocity. Harry only had time to hear the sound of the gun firing, but he was nowhere near quick enough to stop it.

The bullet passed through his shoulder and he crumpled to the ground, deadly peanut butter jar forgotten.

The man walked over to the phone.

Harry couldn't let him do that. He would not chance police intervention.

The bullet wound did not hurt as much as he thought, despite it passing all the way through him. It did not hit anything vital as far as he could tell.

Harry pulled himself up to his feet. The man's back was turned to him as he picked up the receiver.

Harry ran at the man, completely silent, and bit down onto his neck. The man dropped the phone in surprise and let out a muffled cry.

Harry drank, despite not having the craving for blood at the moment. He drank long and hard, visually seeing the color leave the man's skin. As an added precaution, he crushed the man's windpipe and snapped his neck.

He let the corpse drop to his feet. He felt guilty, but he felt no remorse. It was either Harry, or the old man, and Harry is going to choose himself every time. If the man just stayed up in his room, this would have never happened.

The walls of the house were very decorated. Harry got up an examined some of the pictures. There were several of the man and a woman, who he presumed to be his wife. But those pictures looked to be quite old as the man pictured in them was still young.

There were also pictures of the old man alongside various clubs he belonged too; golf, bowling, and cricket. According to the one photo, he was actually a founder of one of the clubs.

Harry rationalized that even though his wife was no longer in the man's life, he was active in the community and someone would most likely miss the old man, and come to check in on him. He would best be out of the house before sunrise.

There were a lot of decorations and furnishings in the room, despite the old man living by himself. Memorabilia from years past and souvenirs from vacations long ago covered the room.

None of it meant anything to Harry.

He looked down to where his shoulder was shot, and was surprised to see that it had stopped bleeding all together, and the hole was nearly gone. He knew that it was part of the upsides to being a vampire; drinking blood refreshed your body. Bloodlust is a survival mechanism, if you don't drink blood, you will eventually return to the dust from whence you came.

Harry eventually found a jar of money above the refrigerator. Nearly 1,200 pounds. A good haul. He wasn't done though. He grabbed all the sets of keys he could find, and there was quite a few. He would save the garage for last.

He continued to search the rest of the house. He found the master bedroom after some searching. There was a safe tucked into the closest. He took a set of clothes from the closet for himself.

The safe was tough to crack. Harry was nowhere near strong enough to rip off the door, even with the vampiric enhancements.

The lock on the safe taunted him. He wracked his mind for anything that would help him solve it.

Harry's mind went back to some of the pictures he looked at on the walls. One of them contained the date of his wedding. He put the combination in a few different ways, none of which worked.

Not wanting to give up, he tried the date of death of the man's wife as well, but that also did not work.

Only having one more idea, he opened up the man's wallet and searched for anything that resembled a lock combo.

Right away Harry smacked his forehead from the obvious; the old man's birthday.

He carefully input the numbers, and was satisfied to hear a click. He opened the door, observed what was inside.

Junk, all junk. Memorabilia from his late wife.

Harry sighed in frustration from the time lost to cracking the safe.

He decided to head into the garage before he left the house for good. He flicked on the lights to get a better view, and in the process nearly blinded himself.

After taking nearly 5 minutes for his eyes to adjust, he beheld the magnificence of what was in the garage.

Two cars and a motorcycle. One of the cars looked to be an old Aston Martin racer. The other was a Lamborghini Miura. Nice cars, sure, but Harry had no use for them. Heaps of junk in his eyes. He did not know how to drive a car. He didn't have the means to sell them either. But he did keep the keys just in case he every decided he did want them in the future.

The motorcycle was a different story. He could probably figure out how to drive that fairly easily. It was far less conspicuous than the other two cars as well.

Harry did recognize it though. Even he, who lived 10 years in a cupboard, could recognize the iconic Vincent Black Shadow.

The key was in the ignition. He messed around with the throttle and other controls for a bit before he figured out how they all worked, and with a roar, the Black Shadow started.

The bike was nearly all black, in an ironic sort of way. Harry made sure he still had all his stolen money in his pocket. Strictly speaking, he didn't need money to survive, but he wanted to go as long as possible without drawing attention to himself. That would be hard if he constantly stole everything and drove loud sports cars around before crashing them into a pole.

Harry took a seat and made sure all his stolen weapons were secure; the constables baton and now the old man's pistol. He found some ammo for it up in the bedroom, but it was not that much. It was probably left out from when the man discovered he had an intruder in his house. He knew absolutely nothing about firearms, except that pulling the trigger shoots it, assuming the safety is off.

He revved the engine a few times just to get a feel for it. The noise was absurdly loud, especially in the enclosed garage. He remedied that by opening up the garage door, but his head was still aching from the loud sound.

Harry carefully maneuvered the bike outside. It was his first time driving any mechanical machine, and he did not want to accidently kill himself. He gently feathered the throttle and was soon driving away down the road.


	5. The Lion, The Witch, & The Wardrobe

Harry hit up a dozen homes in the days that followed, gaining nearly £5,000 total. He should have made it to London quite awhile ago, if it were not for the fact that Harry was completely lost.

He struggled to follow the signs, and he was way out of his depths as a driver. Quite a few hours were spent every day looking for a place to sleep and hide his bike. He did not even want to chance being caught out in the sun.

He parked his freshly refueled vintage motorbike outside of a large manor, approximately 50 miles outside of London.

He did not see any cars on the property, and he took that as a good sign. The property was in immaculate condition; grass perfectly cut, trees and flowers all healthy and blooming. That meant that the owners had a lot of money.

The stone walkway to the front door was quite long. Harry walked along it with a grace he did not have while he was amongst the living. He did not make a single sound as he walked.

There was no means of security on the manor as he approached, no cameras, no guard dogs, no nothing. The front door was not even locked as he went in.

He realized that something was off as soon as he entered the manor. It was similar to the feeling he had when he first woke up after his bite, but different at the same time. He couldn't quite place it, but it was a familiar feeling.

He sneaked into the dining room, scoping out the place and figuring out the layout.

From behind him the sound of a shattering glass made Harry spin around so quick that the breeze disturbed the curtains on the window.

This was not the first time he had encountered a person in the house he was robbing.

He killed them every time.

Once it was even a mother and her toddler son. He drank the woman's blood and threw the kid through a window before drowning him in a kiddie pool.

He didn't always kill them by drinking their blood. Sometimes he would just silently assassinate them, and save them the pain and suffering. He figured out that there was such a thing as too much blood, and he almost hit the point of loosing himself to it.

Being at the brink was something that he would have trouble describing. He wasn't sure what the feeling was, but it felt like a loss of control. But there was more to it than that, and he was not sure if that was something he desired to experience, even just once.

He did not want to lose control. The scary part was that he killed while he lost control of himself, but he also killed while under his own control.

But his mind was his own, and it was the one thing that he had. Memories of the past, of a different life, a life that he had a scant week ago.

There was a girl in front of him, having just dropped a crystal cup of water on the ground in shock.

She recovered as Harry lunged at her. The girl seemed to be fumbling for something in her pocket, Harry didn't know what, and he didn't care. She was a potential threat and had to be neutralized.

Harry grabbed her arms and pinned them up to the wall. She was quite pretty, young, but on the tall side. She had blonde hair in abundance, it was a very light color, and some might even call it platinum blonde.

Sadly, she had to die. Harry bit down onto her neck and began drinking right away.

She began struggling and squirming right away, so far as to even kick him between the legs.

This caught Harry off guard, and his fangs slipped out of her throat, spraying her life blood down the fronts of both of them.

A low chuckle came from Harry's throat. He managed to rasp out "Feisty one aren't we?" He was unused to talking, as he no longer had to breathe. He had to intentionally coordinate his breathing with his vocal cords and he did not quite have the hang of it yet.

Harry bit down onto her once again, and her struggles slowly died down to nothing. He let her crumple to the ground as her breathing became erratic and her heart went into its death throes.

He stood there for a moment savoring the young girl's blood. It tasted better than normal, and it invigorated him like none other before.

The girl was awfully cute, even in death, Harry observed. The way her hair framed her face, blood dripping off her chin, spoiling her sheer nightgown. Plush breasts with nipples erect clearly visible through her blood soaked sleepwear. A nice sized puddle of blood underneath the girl framed the cute scene.

Harry turned around to marvel at the furnishings in the manor. Very elegant, and very expensive tastes.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and was surprised to see a portrait move. Not the portrait itself, but rather the person it was depicting.

Magic.

Harry had found a magical manor and just killed someone who was probably a witch. Probably someone he went to school with, but he didn't recognize her.

The possibilities were endless, and a few questions were answered. Such as why there were no cars present and how the yard was perfectly cultivated.

The manor was furnished tactfully in what he imagined was a pureblood style, of a family who has a long history and take pride in their traditions.

Harry started searching the manor with haste. He did not know where the parents were, and it was more than possible that he tripped some sort of alarm enchantment. But he did not want the trip to be a waste, so he hustled about searching for valuables.

He was inspecting a bookshelf when a noise from behind him caused him to spin around, but he was too slow.

The girl he thought he killed lunged at him with a broken piece of the crystal cup, and slashed at him, nicking his arm. Blood welled up immedietly, fresh from his feast.

What happened next was very unexpected. The girl dove at him and latched onto his arm, bringing it up to her mouth.

Harry tried to pry her face away from his arm, but it seemed that at the brink of death, her adrenaline fortified her body.

She drank.

Harry was too stunned to move. He watched in morbid fascination as the pretty blonde girl willingly drank blood from his wrist, but he had to ask.

"Why?"

She had to of known he was a vampire, and that drinking his blood would turn her into one.

Is that what she wanted? Was she afraid of death?

"There are some things worse than death."

The girl let go of his wrist after a minute.

"I know." She said as she flopped over against the wall and slid down.

Her breathing became ragged once more as his cursed blood coursed through her system, altering her very essence.

72 hours.

That is how long the transformation takes. Harry couldn't well leave her there.

Well, he desperately wanted too, but he couldn't. Too much evidence, leaving a freshly bitten vampire like that. He did not want to be discovered, and that would be pretty damning evidence of vampire activity. He did not want hunting parties out after him, especially if the multiple kills he has left behind get attributed to him.

He could destroy her, but for some reason his morals were telling him that was the wrong thing to do, which was odd in all of itself. He was almost tempted to just off her right there and then and be done with her, but he thought better of it.

Harry would have to take the unknown girl with him. It seemed like the right thing to do.

He didn't know what to do now though. He _could_ floo over to Diagon Alley now that he found a wizarding house. But what then? He has a bloodied up, comatose girl, and that is not exactly inconspicuous.

Staying at the Leaky Cauldron would be a very bad idea.

But surely, Knockturn Alley must have an inn?

No one would bat an eye as he carried an unconscious girl over his shoulder while down in that alley.

Before he left, he decided he should get some of her stuff. He set off exploring the manor, searching for any evidence of the girl's room.

There were quite a few rooms that had no discernable purpose, but then there were also libraries, ingredient rooms, potion rooms, a conservatory, a dozen guest rooms and the list went on.

The whole place was tactfully decorated, but not gaudy. The place still felt like a home and not a museum. Harry was slightly envious.

He eventually came across a hallway that actually seemed like it had regular use.

Harry opened one door on the left and was surprised at the color of the room.

Pink.

Quite obviously a female's room. There were posters of moving unicorns on the wall and even a plush unicorn in the arms of a sleeping girl.

A sleeping girl.

Harry almost panicked. The cute little girl was facing towards him, and he could make out a similar facial structure as the older girl that he killed, but this girl had brown hair and a smattering of freckles, while the older girl had her white-blonde hair and unblemished (but bloodstained) skin.

Harry quickly closed the door as to not wake her. Normally he probably would have killed her, but seeing the look of innocence upon the girls face while hugging a stuffed unicorn was too much, even for a bloodthirsty monstrosity like him. He couldn't gather the nerve to kill both the sisters in one night.

He went across the hall and opened up that door.

This room was similar in size to the other one, but decorated in a more sophisticated style. The room had enough furnishings to convince him that it was in use, and probably by the girl he maimed.

There were a few bookshelves that looked to hold her personal books. He recognized many of them, having owned identical versions himself. It actually looked like she could be in the same year as Harry, as she had every book up through the 4th year curriculum. She did not have the divination ones or care for magical creatures, but rather arithmancy and ancient runes.

Harry spotted a wand on the table and picked it up. He was surprised to feel a small connection with it. He hadn't felt a connection with his own wand since before he died.

"Lumos," he cast, and was surprised to see a faint glow at the end of the wand. He nearly dropped the wand in shock; it was the first time any magic had worked for him in days, although the very basic charm was extremely underpowered.

Harry tucked her wand away, and pulled out his own holly wand.

"Lumos!" Harry cast again, and got a slightly brighter light out of his own wand. He thanked his luck that his phoenix feather wand did not rebel against his vampirism.

His magic was responding to him now, but still barely. But it was better than nothing. Harry found the girl's trunk and began tossing her clothes into it. Cloaks, robes, blouses, skirts, suspiciously lacey bras and panties, it all went in.

He barely managed to shrink the trunk with is magic, and then he proceeded to demolish the room. He wanted to look like the place was ransacked.

He did the same to the master bedroom as well. Smashed a few pieces of furniture, destroyed some clothes, upended the bed and stole a small bag of galleons from the bedside table.

The vampire made his way back to where he left the girl. Harry bent down and picked her up over his shoulder. She was surprising light in death, having lost several liters of blood.

He was about to take the floo when he nearly forgot something; the bike.

Harry went outside and shrunk that down with his abysmally weak magic, and put a featherweight charm on it as well. He stuffed that into his pocket. The bike was not a piece of evidence that should be left around like that.

He made his way back inside, dead, bloodied girl on his shoulder, and found a pot of floo powder near the hearth in the grand foyer.

He tossed the powder into the fire and carefully annunciated "Knockturn Alley" in his underused and hoarse voice. He felt both himself and the dead girl twist along the magic highway before landing inside a grubby looking store; different from the Borgin and Burke's store he landed in a few years back.

Harry silently exited the store and was successful in that regards. He looked up and down the street, taking in the sights properly in the night time. There was quite a lot of traffic for the hour.

The people of the alley were not quite as haggard as he remembered, but they were still not people he would normally associate with, were he alive.

Not all the stores seemed to be as gloomy as the one he just exited either. There were several eateries that looked perfectly normal, as well as several other standard shops. This Alley simply did not have the prestige of Diagon, and as such, everything was slightly gloomier along with the crowd.

An inn was not hard to find at all. Harry almost mistakenly went inside a brothel, and that would not be good at all, what with the dead girl slung on his shoulder.

The next building over was a standard pub and inn, so he went into that one. He took the girl off his shoulder, and instead had her draped in his arm, as if she were simply drunk and asleep.

Harry went over to the barkeep and asked for a room. He tossed a few galleons over to the man, courtesy of the manor he just came from. That got him a key to a room and no awkward questions.

The room was on par with the one in the Leaky Cauldron, maybe even better. Everything had a worn feeling to it, but it gave it character. Tarnished bronze fittings in the bathroom gave a warm mood to the place.

Harry turned on the taps in the tub in the connected bathroom. He needed to wash the caked blood off himself.

He settled down in the water and sighed in frustration when he could barely feel the temperature difference.

It felt good to wash the week's carnage off his body, and in turn, out of his mind. There was still something soothing about lying down in a bathtub and just letting your muscles relax, even if he did not get as much enjoyment out of it as a vampire compared to being human.

The young vampire feared staying in the water for too long. The steam coming off the water was the only indication that it was scalding hot. Harry had no desire to cook his skin like that.

He did not know how long he stayed in the water as his perception of time was still messed up in his head. When he was he dried and clothed himself

He wasn't sure what to do with the girl. She was soaked in blood, and she probably would not appreciate waking up like that.

Harry couldn't take his eyes off her. She looked vaguely familiar, but he could not put a name to her face.

Harry felt an obligation to this girl. He had killed her, and she willing took his blood to become a monster. That was not something he could ignore.

He remembered how much his awakening sucked very clearly, as it happened only last week. He was very dirty, it was very loud, and he killed two people that night.

He could not put that girl through that. He didn't know why, but perhaps a small part of his former self still existed inside this husk of a body.

Harry wished he woke up clean, in a freshly made bed, in a quiet room. Maybe his life would not be so hectic if that was the case.

Harry hesitated in his decision making. The girl wasn't going to get cleaned by herself, so that meant he had to do it.

He did not want his first glimpse of a naked female form to be of a dead bloody girl who had no control of the situation.

Harry settled for dumping her in the bath with her clothes on. He decided to let her soak for a bit while he took inventory of his belongings.

He had a baton, a gun, a few grand in cash, a half dozen wallets and stolen ID's, as well as a dozen key sets. He also had a few pairs of stolen clothes as well. And of course there was the vintage motorbike he had, currently shrunken and on the floor.

After he knew exactly what he had he went back into the washroom. He immedietly realized the shortcomings of his thought process.

The girl was wearing a white nightgown. And she immersed in the water.

Needless to say, the nightgown was now essentially see-through.

Harry emulated a deer in headlights for over a minute before he finally snapped out of it. It seemed that Harry always ran into unexpected situations that he had no clue on how to handle. At least this time, his life was not in danger.

Being a 14 year old boy and seeing a 14 year old girl naked in the bathtub is a moment he will probably never forget, no matter how awkward and embarrassing the one-sided situation was. The girl was essentially dead, and Harry was at a loss for words.

Still, being a 14 year old, vampire or not, he could not help but rake his eyes over what he was seeing. He wasn't exactly sure what he was seeing, as it was the first time he had seen a girl like this. Sure, he started noticing girls during his third year. It was no secret that he had a crush on Cho Chang because she was very pretty.

He identified her breasts right away. They were quite obvious. They were healthy sized, he supposed, probably something like a 32C. Some would say that could be considered large for a 14 or 15 year old girl, but who was Harry to say. He knew there were girls with larger, even in his year. Susan Bones immedietly came to mind, but she was quite overweight, at least compared to the girl in front of him.

It was probably true that most girls, witches included, spent most of their teenage years talking about boys, clothes, and hairstyles, in that order. Hermione was one of the rare, and was probably more of a boy than a girl anyways.

Boys were similar. In his dorm, there were also a set of topics that they talked about. Boobs, sports, girls, sports, and boobs. It wasn't always like that. First year the topics revolved around sports and hating Snape. Harry was not sure exactly when their mentalities switched, but that was part of growing up.

And then there were her girl bits. He saw that she was completely shaven. He didn't know if that was common or not. He had never had a sex ed. class, as the Dursley's forbade that he was in public school. They did not want him knowing how to breed his freakishness, but they obviously did not see the flaw in their thought process. Hogwarts offered no such thing, presumably assuming that the parents would handle that. As a result, he couldn't tell you how a girl worked at all. Realistically though, he would find out that that is something a man strives for his whole life, but never figures out.

Harry took in the rest of her form. She was thin, but not skeletal. Thin waist, slender hips, and long legs. Hardly the hourglass figure that many people seemed to crave, but he found himself not caring what those people thought. Seeing a naked girl and fantasizing about a naked girl are two different things, and reality is so much better than a fictional imagination. Imperfections hardly mattered when he nothing else to compare to.

Harry would guess that she was one of those pampered pureblood girls like Parkinson, but he still had no clue. Harry did not see a single stray hair or ounce of stray fat on her, meaning the girl probably took excellent care of herself. Usually works well in the teenage years, but Harry doubted it would last.

There were a few girls that had similar figures to this one in his year, so he would hardly call her unique. In retrospect, he realized that both the Patil sisters probably had a similar body, and he cursed himself for that missed opportunity.

Harry noticed that the majority of the blood had washed from her body, all that was left to clean was her hair. And that meant he had to get his hands dirty, or rather in this case, clean. He took some of the provided hair care products and went to town.

It took him nearly 30 minutes to clean all the blood out of her hair. He tried magic but it was just not effective.

When Harry was satisfied that the girl was as clean as she had ever been, he pulled her mass out of the tub and laid her down on a pile of towels. The hard part would be drying her hair now, and she had a ton of it. He grabbed a brush and tried his best, but he was rubbish at it. He never had to comb his hair, and hers was many times longer.

He contemplated just cutting it all off in frustration. You cannot complain about having dirty hair if you do not have any hair to get dirty.

It took nearly an hour to dry her up and clothe her, and when Harry was done he laid her down on the second bed. She was now wearing a blue nightgown, which was not see-through.

Now that that task was complete, Harry had other things to attend to. Places to go, people to kill. All in a nights work.

* * *

Author's Notes.

I think I adequately showed a 14 year old boys mind, vampire or not. I mean, c'mon, boobs, amirite? I think it is obvious who the girl is, but please do not leave a review stating your guess. It's not like I am trying to hide it or anything, but Harry won't find out until she wakes up.

Don't worry, there is plenty more bloodshed coming up. And boobs. Things have not even started yet.

This chapter took a little longer than I wanted to put up. I kept changing the last scene around a bit before I was somewhat satisfied with it. And I kept getting sidetracked playing Vampirism Beast on Warcraft 3.

I enjoy worthwhile feedback, such as grammatical and spelling mistakes. I do a lot of proof reading and editing, but I am hardly an expert and it is possible some things escaped my net.

And here is a shout out to DLP. Join our C2 at FF.N /community/DLP_5_Starred_and_Featured_Authors/84507/

It is the only c2 worth a damn, and many stories far superior to my own are in its library.


	6. The Alley

Harry walked out into the night. He metaphorically breathed in the fresh air of the dark and let his senses roam the street. Nearly every store was still open at this time of night, which was a stark contrast to the more popular Diagon Alley.

No one gave Harry a second look, which was comforting, because he did not know how much he still resembled Harry Potter.

Harry lost his glasses when he was bitten, and then his scar healed sometime after that. His hair was also now tamable. He had cut his hair quite short, just so it would be easier to clean the blood out of it.

He made his way into a nondescript clothing shop and picked out several hooded robes in various dark colors. He put one on immedietly upon leaving the store and put the rest back in his room.

He was out of wizarding money now after that small purchase, so that meant going to Gringotts.

Knockturn alley was quite larger than he thought, and he did not know how deep he was in it. Quite simply, he got lost a few times on his way out, and when he finally did see Gringotts in the distance, the sun was just starting to peak over the buildings.

Harry felt a great weakness overcome him, and it took all his will to fight the urge to pass out right there on the street. He pulled his robe closer to himself and sank deeper into the thick robes hood.

None of his skin was exposed, but the pounding in his head would just not go away.

Every step he took was lethargic and near the point of agonizing, but he did not seem to be in any immediate danger.

His energy just seemed to be swept away as he climbed the steps to Gringotts. Harry needed to get inside.

He passed the guard goblins without any drama. They did not even look twice at him. They did not discriminate against clientele, all they cared about was making money.

As he walked over to the nearest open teller-goblin, his enhanced hearing picked up an odd conversation.

"…Prepare conference room 6 for the Potter estate…" A human said.

"So the will is going to be read today?" A goblin responded.

"The kid doesn't have a will. The Estate will be broken up amongst his closest living family." The human responded.

"Very well. The room will be ready by 10."

"Good."

Harry was pondering that information as the goblin in front him was clearing its throat repeatedly, trying to get his attention.

"Oh, erm, I need this converted." Harry slid over a few thousand pounds worth of stolen notes. He leaned in closer before asking. "When is the Potter estate meeting?"

The goblin rolled his eyes. "At 11, _sir_. I would not get your hopes up, I suspect half of Britain's population is going to be there to try and get a piece."

"And what time is it currently?"

The goblin bared his teeth at Harry. "Nearly 8,_ human._ "

Harry had the temptation to bare his own fangs at the goblin, but resisted the urge.

Another goblin came back carrying a small sack of coins. "Your gold," was all the disgusting creature said before leaving the same way it came.

Harry put the bag in his pocket. The slip for the transaction indicated that he now had a little over 800 galleons to his name.

Now he just had to figure out what to do for a few hours until the meeting held at the bank. He really wanted to sleep, and was having a tough time fighting the overwhelming exhaustion, but he found it more bearable when he hid in the shadows under his heavy hooded robe.

He knew that even if he closed his eyes for a few seconds, he would fall asleep until nightfall came again. During that time he would be deathly still and very vulnerable.

Harry very much wanted to explore the alley, perhaps buy a few things, but he thought better of it. He settled for staying inside the bank and observing, where it was safe.

The vampire heard snippets of conversations of many of the witches and wizards who came through. He was trying to gauge the current atmosphere, after Voldemort's return and his own demise.

Harry even found an old copy of the Daily prophet, from the day after the task. It was quite somber, but he did see that Cedric's body was recovered, but there was no sign of anyone else at the graveyard.

There was no mention of Voldemort at all, so Harry assumed that no one knew, or that it was being hushed up. Harry figured the possibility of the ministry covering it up was about 50/50.

He saw several people he recognized pass by, but many more that he didn't.

At a quarter to 11 he recognized Dumbledore make his way past, and Harry could almost feel the overconfidence the man exuded.

Remus Lupin came by, with a dog in tow; Sirius. Several of his friends also came by, and several other students from Hogwarts that were not his friends. The whole Malfoy family was there, as well as the Parkinson's. A family that resembled large walking boulders shambled by. They could either be the Goyle's, Crabbe's, or Bulstrode's. It was hard to tell the difference, even between genders.

Harry placed himself in the line to walk into the room. He had to sign his name on a sheet as a means to track who was at the meeting. He noticed that the quill was odd in nature, and seemed to write in his own blood. He wrote down Terry Tarhop, a simple anagram of his real name. It would probably be smart to come up with something better later on. He could not use his real name for obvious reasons.

He took his spot in the back of the room and wondered how exactly the inheritors would be decided.

At 11 AM precisely, some official looking wizards entered into the room and took to the podium and began speaking right away.

"On behalf of the Department of Wills and Inheritance, and in accordance with the Inheritance Act of 1563, and Succession Act of 1583, I hereby acknowledge that the goblins of Clan Gringotts have allowed us use of their neutral meeting grounds in an effort to promote interspecies cooperation. I call this meeting of the Potter Estate to order."

A goblin took to the podium and began reading off the list of items and properties that are in the estate.

There was not much. It turned out that there was a familial vault that held a lot of family heirlooms dating back centuries and some gold. There was also his trust vault which was merged with the familial vault once it fell out of disuse upon his death.

Harry's own items were labeled as 'personal effects' and he would bet that was what everyone really wanted; personal items of the 'boy-who-lived'

After the list was finished, the wizard took to the podium once more and called for people verbally announce their reason for claiming the estate.

Malfoy's by way of blood relations through his wife Narcissa Black, Sirius Black through blood relation as well and familial friendship. Remus Lupin by way of familial friendship, Dumbledore by way of complicated circular reasoning that Harry did not understand but made him feel stupid.

That process went on for over an hour as many families tried to make their claim.

At the end though, a goblin came into the room holding the paper that everyone signed in blood. Harry watched as the goblin prepared a magical device that he had no understanding of, and put the paper into the liquid basin that resided in it.

Steam poured out of the machine, and eventually a paper spit out through the side. The goblin handed it back to the wizard.

"Here is the result of the blood test. As there are no direct descendants of the Potter Line, the closest living relative by blood is one Marius Black. Relation is that of brother to Dorea Black, who married Charlus Potter. Great Granduncle to the late Harry Potter."

Harry was shocked. He had no idea he was actually related to the Blacks. He wondered how closely related Sirius was to him. Harry knew there were several branches of Blacks, so it was possible they were barely related at all, or it could be possible they were as close as second cousins once removed.

This Marius fellow looked to be pretty old though, especially if he was his great granduncle.

Harry watched in detached boredom as the process for other people to claim a part of the estate was explained.

Harry left the building after the meeting was over. Being around so many greedy people was starting to get on his nerves.

He waited in the shadows for Marius to exit.

He didn't exactly plan ahead what he was going to do, but it seemed a good idea at the time. Marius walked out of Gringotts and towards the Leaky Cauldron. Harry followed him inside, and out the other side.

Marius made his way into Muggle London, and Harry did his best to follow.

Harry tried to stay in the shadows. Even if the sun was not shining directly on his shrouded form, he still felt extremely ill.

A mere two blocks away from the Leaky Cauldron Harry made his move. He clamped a hand around Marius' face and dragged him into the nearby alley. Harry clamped his fangs down on his throat and began to drink.

The blood had a similar taste to that of the girl's, but nowhere near as refreshing.

He finished drinking, and ripped the whole throat out for good measure. There would be no evidence of a vampire bite, just a severe mauling. He wiped his bloody face clean with Marius's shirt.

Harry might have been a bit zealous because of chunks of skin and muscle lay strewn about the ground in addition to the copious amounts of blood.

Harry dug through the man's pockets, and sure enough, he found a familiar looking key with a "P" engraved on it. His own key.

The vampire made his way back into the Alley through the front entrance. He felt invigorated after the feeding, and the headache caused from the ambient sunlight was barely noticeable.

Harry was not sure how to spend the rest of the day. He felt too alive after the feeing to be able to sleep, so he decided to pick up a few books and perhaps a trinket or two.

Inside Flourish and Blotts was just how he remembered, except without the display of the Monster Book of Monsters.

Harry only had one thing in mind; to figure out what wizards know about vampires. Sure, Lupin was a good teacher, but there is only so much you can teach to thirteen year olds.

Hopefully a book would tell him why his magic was pitiful and mostly unresponsive and weak. He ended up grabbing two books; one similar in size to a textbook and labeled Anatomy of a Vampire, and a small little book with the title Vampires: Fiends of the Night.

The second one was probably the more interesting of the two as it contained various histories of famous vampires, some of which are still alive. It was in this book that he found a few words to manipulate to form a new name.

The larger book was more important, but drier in context. It detailed how vampires differed from humans. It was unbiased, but it was still written by a human. The human had lived with vampires for several years, but the man was still not a vampire, and as such, the accuracy of such a book could be debatable.

That was to be expected though, and perhaps that would be to his benefit. If he knew what the humans knew about his condition, and if what they knew was actually wrong, then he would have something he could use to his advantage.

Harry paid a small price for the two books. As he was walking out of the store he saw something peculiar.

Harry saw Remus Lupin walk by, but in the alley between the Quidditch shop and pet shop, he saw a glint of something. Something familiar and still fresh in his mind.

A white mask.

Harry saw the masked man step out of the shadows and yell "Avada Kedavra!"

Lupin turned around, but he would have only witnessed his own death. Harry dove and tackled Lupin to the ground and the green bolt of death arced over head.

Harry witnessed several other Death Eaters come out from shadows and started firing at the crowd.

Harry knew he was no match magically with any death eater, even if he was alive with all his power. But most Death Eaters and wizards would crumble against a physical attack.

So Harry rushed towards the nearest attacker and punched the mask as hard as he could. The mask shattered and blood sprayed everywhere as the attacker collapsed.

Harry washed he had something more effective than his fists, and his nails were only useful against exposed skin since they were not very long. A knife would be idea.

Lupin was taking cover behind a produce cart, and was currently exchanging spells with someone across the alley. Harry ran over and took cover behind the same cart.

"Lupin, I need you to conjure me a dagger."

Lupin looked at him weird, not recognizing Harry, and analyzed the strange request. However, Harry did save his life so he complied.

Harry took the dagger and headed for the nearest shadow. He shimmied up the side of the building subconsciously. If anyone witnessed the bizarre climb, they would have thought he was strange.

Harry was on the roof of Flourish and Blott's, and looking down on two Death Eaters below him. They were both very close to the shadowed alley, which was fortuitous and would hide his jump.

He jumped.

The first Death Eater could not even scream as the knife plunged through the top of his head and out the bottom of his mouth. He yanked it out forcefully and a small jet of blood shot out through the top, along with some brain matter.

The second Death Eater did not see his ally fall, but if he did it would not matter since Harry snapped his neck as he pulled him into the shadows.

Harry drank that wizard's blood, and felt the odd surge of power once again. He let the body crumble to the ground.

Harry pulled out his wand, and cast 'incendio' onto the man's robes. The spell, while not strong, was stronger than he expected it to be as it lit the body on fire.

Harry didn't even realize he cast the spell silently as he was not very fond of manually breathing to manipulate his vocal cords.

He did notice the odd sensation he has been feeling get slightly dimmer after he cast that spell, almost as if he actually lost magical potential after he cast. Harry quickly scourgified himself of all the blood.

Harry took a look around the alley to see how many attackers were left, and he was pleased to note that there was none. He spotted Remus Lupin giving a report to a pair of Aurors, and after a minute of observing he also saw Dumbledore arrive on the scene.

Lupin walked over to Harry.

"I have to thank you. You saved my life and I am in your debt. I think I owe it to my savior to at least buy him a drink."

Harry nodded his head. "Okay. I could use a pick-me-up after that." Harry could sense something from Lupin, but he couldn't place it at first.

Harry then remembered that Lupin is a werewolf, and that he was probably subconsciously reaching out to him as a fellow individual estranged from society. Harry wasn't sure which was worse, Vampirism or Lycanthropy. One was a parasite to society, while the other was a burden to society.

Harry followed Lupin into the Leaky cauldron, but was quickly headed off by Dumbledore and a large black dog.

Lupin gave a brief look of annoyance before holding open the door for the three of them.

"What do you want Mr… er sorry I didn't get your name?"

Harry though about it for a second. He disliked the name he used at the estate meeting, but he did think the one he found only a few minutes ago would be good. He also didn't know what he should get to drink. His stomach could not process solids, but he could process liquids. It just happened to be that blood was the only thing that actually gave him nourishment.

"Banshee's Wail will be fine, and the name is Mr… Okrevni."

"Sure thing Mr… Okrevni."

Harry grumbled to himself as he sat down across from the one man who could possibly see through his cover; Dumbledore. He pulled back his hood and took the proffered drink.

He waited to see if there would be any signs of recognition, and he clutched the dagger in his pocket very tightly, waiting to pounce if his cover was blown. It was not.

Naturally, Dumbledore spoke up first.

"Remus tells me you saved his life in the alley here today. An honorable gesture, and we are all very thankful." Dumbledore said. Harry caught Dumbledore giving Sirius the dog a quick glance.

"However, I feel obligated to say that there were better ways to handle to attackers aside from killing them. Perhaps if they were simply subdued we may have gotten some information."

Harry knew where Dumbledore was heading with this, so he obliged. "I am not that great of a dueler, at least when compared to you, Chief Warlock. Those people dressed up as Death Eaters meant business when they start casting unforgivables at innocent people, so I played to my strengths in order to end the conflict. I know most wizards are not great at physical combat, so that is how I took them out." Harry followed up with the hook, line, and sinker. "What kind of information do you think they had? Why were they attacking?"

Dumbledore gave a grave nod of his head. "Alas, it is my fear that the Dark Lord Voldemort has returned to continue his war upon this land. This attack with his Death Eaters confirms my suspicions, but I would have very much liked to have questioned one of the attackers for anything that could be of aid."

"He-who-must-not-be-named? Surely you jest!" Harry jested. "Is there anything I can do to help? I can fight."

Dumbledore looked pensieve for a minute. He stared at Harry as if he were trying to X-ray his soul. Harry took a sip of his Banshee's Wail and was surprised to note that it had some taste, but did not have the alcoholic effect that he was expecting. It was not the first time he had drank Banshee's Wail (thank Fred, George, and victory celebration parties for that). He drank about half of the glass before putting it back down.

He did notice something else though, something foreign in the drink, almost as if it was spiked.

Dumbledore seemed satisfied at whatever he was deciding in his mind as Harry drank from his tankard.

"I am always looking for talented witches and wizards looking to join me in the fight against the darkness. As you saw not 15 minutes ago, our country is on the brink of war once more, and the Ministry does not even realize it. The minister refuses to even believe that Voldemort could possibly be back, but I know that you always have to look below the surface to see the truth.

Dumbledore than gave a subtle look to the room in general and at both Remus and Sirius. "Pardon me as I cast a privacy spell for us. A well hidden fact about me is that I am the leader of an organization called the Order of the Phoenix. It is an organization of volunteers that help me in the fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. I formed it during the first war, and have reconvened it once more for this new threat.

"I am willing to invite you into the organization, with a few stipulations of course. You will have to take an oath to never betray our secrets. That should go without saying. I also have to urge that we never kill, unless no other option remains. We will not become so entrenched in our beliefs as to become the very enemy we are trying to fight. "

Harry knew better than to interrupt the headmaster while he talked, so he just sat there and continued to listen.

"I will give you the location of the Headquarter before the next meeting, which is in about 3 hours from now. If you do decide to join, and you can back out anytime you want, we have very helpful members who would be more than glad to help you with your spell casting. The more skilled our forces are, the greater the chance of success exists."

"Ok. I'll do it." Harry agreed. If there was any way to get back at Voldemort for everything he has done, surely this group would be a great way to accomplish it. And Dumbledore. He is not clean in the mess, not by a long shot. "I got some errands to finish, as I was interrupted by the attack. Shall I meet you back here in three hours?"

"That is acceptable."

* * *

Author's notes

I am not a big fan of Harry having an alternate name, but with some stories there is just no way around it.

I enjoy worthwhile feedback, such as grammatical and spelling mistakes. I do a lot of proof reading and editing, but I am hardly an expert and it is possible some things escaped my net.

And here is a shout out to DLP. Join our C2 at .net/community/DLP_5_Starred_and_Featured_Authors/84507/

It is the only c2 worth a damn, and many stories far superior to my own are in its library.


	7. Order Meeting

Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus flooed over to Headquarters immedietly following their brief encounter with Mr. Okrevni. They all thought that it was a fake name, but they didn't want to single the man out.

There was something odd about the man, but the same could be said about everyone in Headquarters. Dumbledore would be more worried if there was _not_ anything odd about the man. He is not looking for the average witch and wizard, he is looking for the unordinary ones.

Upon entering the dining room, Sirius exclaimed, "The man is obviously hiding something."

"Of course he is." Dumbledore responded. "We just met the man, it would be unwise for him to spill his heart out to just anyone he meets off the street, even me."

"But – "

"I do not think the man has any malicious intentions. After all, he did stop that Death Eater attack in the Alley. I am more worried about continuation attacks personally. However, I did notice something out of the ordinary with the man, aside from his fake name. I could not gauge his thoughts or emotions at all using Legillimancy."

"Really? He would have to be an extraordinarily strong Occlumense to keep you out," Lupin stated.

"Yes. And as far as I could tell, he did not even notice my attempts at all, which makes me think it is something else entirely. It is no matter though, if I cannot enter his mind, neither can our enemies," Dumbledore rationalized. Little did he know that the reason he couldn't sneak in Harry's mind is because he is dead. "If he does not work out, we will simply obliviate him and send him back to his previous life. Do not forget though, that he told us no lies."

"Right, the Veritaserum you spiked his drink with."

"In simple terms, correct. While it would have been suspicious to use overly direct questioning, I feel that his intentions were laid out fairly plainly."

* * *

Harry walked back to his rented room. The meeting with Dumbledore left much to be desired, but it was an opportunity to fulfill the revenge he very much sought. There is a saying, "keep your friends close, and your enemies closer," and that held true. By joining Dumbledore's little club, Harry had access to the headmaster that he would not have normally.

The streets of Diagon were nearly empty following the attack, and everyone was very cautious.

Harry stopped at a clothier in Knockturn on the way back. He really needed some better fighting clothes, especially for night time. His heavy, thick, grey robe he wore now was too similar to that of a Death Eaters. While it served its purpose during the day by keeping him from catching fire, it was simply inefficient. His movement was hindered, and with his heightened reflexes and weaker magic, he was more prone to using physical attacks, at least for the time being. Mad-Eye Moody once told him to 'play to his strengths' and that is exactly what he was doing.

Every day it seemed like Harry ended up killing at least one person, so it would be logical that Harry would invest some money to make himself more efficient at the task.

The clothier he went to was actually more expensive than Madam Malkin's, but the quality was also better. This was showcased as the guy had exactly what Harry needed.

Acromantula silk robe with unicorn hair weaved into the seams. It looked similar to a normal robe, and it was black in color. But it was virtually weightless, and very flexible. The strength of the materials could not be ignored either, as it would be nearly impossible to tear such a robe with normal means.

The man had made many similar robes before. Auror captain's get a robe like that as standard issue, in their normal colors of course. Several upstanding members of the Wizengamot also have robes like that as well. The man was proud to be able to boast about having Malfoy and Parkinson as customers.

Even if the robe was strongly made, that did not give him an advantage over others. Being a vampire, he also decided to have the master tailor incorporate demiguise hair into the weave; the same stuff that gives invisibility cloaks their invisibility property. It would not make him invisible, but it would make him blend in better in shadows.

The choices of material were also smart in that they would clean very easily. Blood needed to wash out fairly well.

Harry was just happy that he finally had his own clothes, and something that was not castoffs from his fat cousin. It finally took him until he died to get something custom made to call his own that was not school clothes, but better late than never.

Harry walked back into his room to deposit his purchases.

Harry put on his new robe right away and was very satisfied at how well it fit, and how strong, yet light it felt. The robe made him look sort of like a fighter, and hopefully it would show Dumbledore that he meant what he said and that is that he wanted to fight. He just didn't say who he wanted to fight.

He laid his books on vampires out on the table. He also took note that the girl was still in the exact same position that he left her in and that her blonde hair was spread about the bed like a halo. Her hair stood out even more as her face was deathly pale, giving her an eerie look. Being drained of blood tends to make you look like that.

Harry once more washed himself of the day's grime. It seemed it was really hard for Harry to go a whole day without getting into a fight. He noticed that before he got started to wash, that his skin was a bright red.

Sunburn.

Even with a massive heavy and thick robe and an overcast day, Harry still got burnt. He shuddered to imagine if he was without the cloak on a sunny day; he would be a pile of ashes.

As night time came, the dull pulsing of his headache finally went away. Even without sleeping during the daytime, Harry did not feel tired at all. His body told him that drinking blood refreshed him in more ways than one. But he also knew that he did not have to drink blood every day, or even every other day, but if he wanted to stay healthy it was a good idea. He still had to work on that drinking without killing thing… It was possible in theory, but he had yet to just go out on the town looking to feed. Every time it seemed like he was being attacked, and he couldn't just let that happen. Killing just made it so much more satisfying.

Harry finished putting on his new robe and decided it was probably time to meet back at the Leaky Cauldron for his meeting with Dumbledore's fighters.

* * *

Cornelius Fudge sat behind his royal oak desk in his grandiose office. His chair was high backed, and extremely comfortable. Almost throne-like.

In front of him lay a stack of papers that needed to be read over and signed. Only a few of them were related to the Triwizard Tournament disaster. If only Dumbledore had allowed him to keep Dementors stationed at Hogwarts that year, none of this might have happened… but that was a thought for a different time.

The rest had to do with an upcoming event.

A celebration.

The timing was not the greatest, after the death of one of their nation's Heroes.

But this celebration was in part dedicated to the other Hero of their nation; Albus Dumbledore. The celebration was not just confined to their nation, but nations around the world.

The 50th anniversary of the defeat of Grindelwald.

Minster Fudge remembered that day well, as it occurred after his first year of Hogwarts. Old enough to remember it, but young enough to be effected by it.

Fudge was about to go into his serious procrastination mode by reminiscing about times long past, but he was interrupted by the sound of Amelia Bones' voice coming from his private fireplace.

"Minister!"

"What is it Amelia?" Fudge asked quickly, hearing the urgency in her voice.

"There has been an incident, in Diagon Alley."

Minister fudge rubbed his face in frustration. "How many casualties? Have the attackers been identified?"

"The attackers were dressed in Death Eater's robes. The attackers may have been the same that were seen at the World cup. The only casualties were that of the attackers."

"None of your Aurors thought to subdue one for questioning?"

"By the time my Aurors got there, the fighting was already done. They arrived in time to take statements from witnesses, and they say the fight lasted less than three minutes total."

"Who took them out then?" Fudge asked curiously.

"Several citizens who were shopping in the Alley decided to take initiative themselves. They risked their lives to save a dozen others, which is commendable. It is not something we should encourage though."

"Quite correct. Best to run and let Aurors handle it whenever possible. That is what they are paid for. It is good to know that this country does have fine upstanding citizens willing to sacrifice their own health and safety to protect others. Maybe a few Order of Merlin, third class, should be given? Who are the citizens?"

"Remus Lupin. Former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. Knows his stuff, but resigned because –"

"He is a werewolf. I know of the man. Good friends with the Potters. Generally well liked by the public, despite his affliction. An associate of Dumbledore behind the scenes."

"An accurate assessment. Dumbledore did show up after the fight, around the same time as the Aurors. I can't figure out who tipped him off, but he was not there for the actual fighting. Witnesses also reported another man was involved in the battle, helping Lupin, but we were unable to identify him. I have an Auror looking into that, as the man in question has been seen around Diagon a few times recently."

"Any suspicions on who is behind this? Is it Sirius Black?"

"We have not heard or seen anything from Black in well over a year. I think he is truly well and gone from this country. That's what I would have done. There is nothing to show that it is not him either, but honestly, we have have no leads right now, to this incident or the Triwizard. I would hazard a guess that it is a Death Eater from the last war that we have never identified, and that he has found new recruits who sympathize with his ideals."

Fudge mulled over this information for a minute before addressing Amelia once more.

"Very well. I shall expect a report on my desk in the morning so my secretary can write up a statement to the public."

Amelia rolled her eyes as she pulled her head back out of the floo. Only thing Fudge cared about was his image, and if there were citizens of his country fighting against the darkness, that made his Ministry look stronger. He would say not what was correct, but rather what the people wanted to hear. He did not want to create a panic. Noble cause, for sure, but done for all the wrong reasons.

* * *

Harry donned his custom made robe and put a featherweight charm on his heavy robe before shrinking that and putting it in his pocket. Weight reducing and shrinking charms were about the extent of what his magic could handle right now, but that was better than no magic at all.

It was nighttime and he felt _alive_. The blood of the day's kill still circulated his veins. The new feeling of adrenaline for the longing of eventual battle was making him slightly restless.

He wasn't sure if he liked that feeling or not. It was as if he was starting to lose control of his own mind. He has had the taste of blood, and killing, and it is not something to easily forget. It was almost like an addiction, and if he did not want to get addicted to killing, then he would have to curb back a bit, or at least not gorge himself on blood when he didn't need it.

Harry walked through Diagon to meet up with Dumbledore at the Leaky Cauldron.

He made his way into the pub and spotted Dumbledore right away. It would be hard not to, as his pointy hat stood above the rest, and it was bright yellow, along with his robes.

Dumbledore did a good job of emulating the sun, because Harry was getting a headache from just looking at the man.

"Ah, Mr. Okrevni, I am glad to see you have made it. Follow me; Tom has been so kind as to provide me with a private room with a Floo attached."

Harry followed the eccentric elder wizard up the stairs to the hallway he was familiar with from the summer before his third year. Dumbledore's room was at the end of the hallway, in an inconspicuous corner.

When they entered, Harry was surprised at the room. Everything was rickety and shoddy, even the very floor. There was a thick layer of dust over everything as well, and cobwebs in the corner. The wallpaper was aging and peeling.

Clearly this room had never been used for its original purpose. It wouldn't be very hard for clean the room either. Dumbledore would just have to wave his wand and the room would be good as new.

Dumbledore seemed to predict what Harry was thinking and said, "It adds to the ambience."

"Sir, where are we going?"

"Ah, yes, please read this first, and then I will answer your question."

Harry read the piece of parchment Dumbledore gave him with confusion. _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at number 12 Grimmauld Place._

"There are some things you will learn tonight that the public does not know about and some inconvenient truths that the Ministry does not condone. The Headquarters is located in the ancestral Black family manor. You will find that there are many people in this organization from many different walks of life. Aurors, professors, ministry workers, housewives, former students, a werewolf, and yes, even an escaped convict whose guilt has never been proven. They have all joined me in a common goal, and that is the defeat of Evil. It is not too late to back out. If you want to join, then I shall welcome you on other side."

Dumbledore took a pinch of floo powder from a cobwebbed covered pot and threw into the fire.

Harry did the same a few seconds later and repeated "12 Grimmauld Place!" into the fire. He was very apprehensive of the fire at first, but thankfully it was not normal fire. Otherwise he would have died very quickly. Still, he would try to avoid using the Floo whenever possible.

He arrived through the fire and somehow managed to step out of the fire without falling over. Some may have even called him graceful, but he didn't feel it.

"Ah, Mr. Okrevni, I am glad you decided to join us. There is another new member here today as well for their first meeting. I believe Kingsley will be bringing her… yes, here they are now."

Two people came through what looked like the front door; a tall black man, and a girl with bright pink hair. Dumbledore ushered them all into a large room that appeared to be the dining room.

The building they were in was questionable. Dumbledore had said it was the Black family manor, and hinted that Sirius had control of it.

Simply said, it looked the part. It was very gloomy, and very dirty. There was a hidden elegance though, of old wealth and pureblood ancestry. The place has seen better days. Dust, grime, cobwebs, and general messiness permeated the place.

Not to mention the house-elf heads hanging on the wall, and all the other dubious looking artifacts.

Simply put, the place was disgusting. Harry didn't really mind the _darkness_ of the place; if it was cleaned up he would probably feel at home, but right now, it seemed like a terrible choice for a headquarters.

It took only a few minutes before the majority of the seats at the table were filled. He recognized a few of them, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Professor McGonagall, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black. The rest, another 10 or so, he did not recognize.

Dumbledore spoke up right away, quieting the light talking that was going on.

"Before we get started with the meeting, I would like to introduce two individuals who have expressed interest in joining the Order of the Phoenix. While there is no test of skill or knowledge to get in, I am afraid that Veritaserum must be administered, and an oath taken. We have had spies in the past, and this is easiest and most painless way to test loyalty. First up is Miss Tonks. Alastor, do the honors please."

The pink haired witch, last name Tonks, sat in her chair while Moody reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of clear fluid.

"You know the drill." Moody stated gruffly.

"Yes sir." Tonks responded. She opened her mouth, exposing her tongue, and Moody poured a few drops of the liquid onto it.

Moody looked at the clock hanging from the wall for thirty seconds before starting his questioning.

"What is your name?"

"Nymphadora Tonks," the witch stated. Sirius could be heard giggling from the corner.

"What is your occupation?" Moody continued with his line of questioning.

"Ministry Auror."

"Why do you want to join the Order of the Phoenix?"

"To protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"Good," Dumbledore spoke up, "Administer the antidote Alastor."

Moody took another vial from his pocket, this one a translucent blue color, and poured a few more drops into Nymphadora's mouth.

"Now, I just need you to take a simple wizard's oath," the Headmaster continued, "To never betray the members of the Order or give away our secrets."

"Alright. I, Nymphadora Tonks, give my word as a witch, to never reveal any secrets of the Order of the Phoenix, or to betray any members of said Order," she recited, and then added, "And don't call me Nymphadora. The name is Tonks, just Tonks."

"Thank you. Let me be the first to welcome you. Now for Mr. Okrevni. Alastor, the Veritaserum please."

Harry sat in his chair, not exactly sure what to expect. Worse comes to worse, his identity is found out and he has to try to kill everyone in the room.

Moody poured a few drops onto Harry's tongue, just like with Nym-, no, Tonks. Harry felt no difference after the drops. The serum did not have a taste, nor smell. He made sure not to show off his fangs when he stuck his tongue out.

"What is your name?" Moody started his line of questioning.

Harry was not sure what to expect, but he did not feel any magic influencing him at all. "Ovado Okrevni."

"Occupation?"

What did Harry do? He couldn't say he was a thief, or a killer… "None."

"Why do you want to join the Order?"

"To increase my skill and knowledge."

"Fair enough," Dumbledore acknowledged, "Make the same oath the Nymphadora made please."

"I, Ovado Okrevni, hereby swear to never reveal any secrets of the Order or betray any of its members."

"Thank You Ovado. Let me be the first to welcome you into the Order. I think official introductions are in order. Naturally, this is not all the members of the Order, as several are on missions. Starting to my left is Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore continued with the introductions, and the other members gave brief hellos in return. Aside from the people Harry already knew, there was Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, Hestia Jones, and Mundugus Fletcher.

"The oaths are necessary, I am sad to say. 14 years ago there was an incident, quite a famous, or infamous, one at that, when we had a spy in our ranks. That spy led Voldemort to attack James and Lily Potter's house, and met his eventual defeat at the hands of Harry Potter. Now, that spy was not Sirius Black here like the Ministry and public thinks, but rather their friend Peter Pettigrew. None of us saw that coming, and as a preventative measure from that happening again, I have asked for wizarding oaths." Dumbledore said, before turning to the rest of the table. "As for why I decided to ask these two outstanding people into our ranks, I shall give an explanation. Miss Tonks, along with being a cousin of Sirius, is a highly trained Auror, top of her graduating class. Not to mention her rare trait of being a Metamorphmagus. Mr. Okrevni was present earlier today when the Death Eaters attacked Diagon Alley. He saved Remus' life while dispatching several of the attackers as well. He showed no fear in the face of danger, and met it head on."

More pleasantries were traded between the new members once more before Dumbledore continued on with his talk.

"Our first order of business is to locate or extrapolate what has happened to Severus Snape. For the two new members, Severus disappeared on the same night that Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory were killed. He was our spy for us during the first war. His Dark Mark burned, and I fear that indicates that Voldemort has regained his body. Snape left to answer the call, and has not returned, or reported in. I fear the worst."

"Which is worse, Albus, Snape turning traitor, or him being dead?"

"Both are terrible options that I hope have not happened. He is uniquely positioned as a spy to give us the information we need on the… less savory families. I hesitate to ask any of you to immerge yourself in that world, but if any of you have an idea as to locate Snape, I am all ears."

Tonks spoke up right away. "As an auror I have been trained in covert operations and intelligence gathering. My talent as a metamorphmagus makes me uniquely suited to stake outs and spying."

Dumbledore stroked his bear for a few seconds before responding. "Thank you for the offer, Nymphadora. I shall have to think on it. As for the next order of business, I am afraid I must admit fault to something I have done in ages long past, but I hope you all think no less of me.

"I may have made a grievous error of judgment, letting personal life get in the way of the greater good of the people. As some of you might be aware, the 17th of July marks the 50th anniversary of the defeat of Grindelwald. The Ministry is planning a celebration of sorts. Hopefully after the attack on the Alley today the Ministry will be smart enough to increase the Auror guards. I may have Order members stationed there as well, but that is not what this is about. Now please just hear me out.

Dumbledore took a moment to think of what to say next. He saw that he had the undivided attention of everyone in the room. "The term 'defeat' can have many meanings, to conquer, to win… to kill. The truth of the matter is that while I did defeat Grindelwald, I never killed him. I have never told the public the truth behind my relationship with Grindelwald, and why I waited so long to confront him.

"He and I were childhood friends… we both shared aspirations of glory, but he preferred the heavy hands method and I did not approve of his actions. It took me a long time to gather up the nerve to face my former friend. He was a lot more skilled than me, far more intelligent, but he did not expect me to combat him with simplicity. I caught him unawares, but I did not kill him.

"I locked him in his own prison, Nurmenguard. He built it to house his enemies, as he was not nearly the ruthless killer that Voldemort was. There are no guards in the place; it was not designed like that. I found it ironic that he would be imprisoned in the place he built with his very own hands, but I digress.

"To this day, Grindelwald survives in the prison, locked up in the topmost cell. All the other prisoners have long died, but he survives. The prison itself is impenetrable, to either break in, or break out. The magic on it is pure genius, and the likes of which have not been seen since.

"That being said, I fear that Grindelwald may be bidding his time until he attempts a dramatic escape. The 50th anniversary of his defeat would be as iconic as any. I have always thought it curious that Grindelwald did not create a backdoor for him to escape from his prison, but perhaps he did not foresee a single circumstance where he would be held his own prisoner.

"Or perhaps, as I fear, he did create an escape route, and he plans to make use of it in the upcoming month. This is why I am going to be assigning several of you to be on rotating guard duty on his cell starting next week."

Silence permeated the room for nearly 5 minutes before anyone had the audacity to speak up. "Headmaster, why don't we just kill him, once and for all?" Dedalus Diggle bravely asked.

"Could you kill a man in cold blood, Dedalus? One who has spent half of his life sitting in a prison cell? He has not seen the sun in 50 years."

"No, I suppose not," Dedalus conceded.

"Very well, that concludes our official business, now if anyone has any comments or concerns, please feel free to share them. If no one has anything to say, then feel free to hang around and have a bite to eat, or go along on your merry way. Please be careful about where you talk about Order business. Nymphadora, Ovado, please stay behind." Dumbledore said all this as if he was not talking about one of the most dangerous men to have ever lived.

Harry and Tonks both got up and walked over to where Dumbledore was sitting. A few other Order members remained in the room and started talking to each other while Mrs. Weasley started to cook some food.

Harry noticed some kids walk into the room as soon as the meeting ended. Namely some people he recognized; Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the Twins.

Dumbledore pulled two items out his robe and handed them to Harry and the female Auror. "These are Order Medallions. Every member has one. It is enchanted with a Protean Charm. It will vibrate, glow, and grow warm when I call for a meeting with it. When that happens, it would be best to make it to headquarters as soon as possible."

Harry took the medallion in his hand. It was not very large, maybe two inches across. It was in the shape of a phoenix, which was not surprising given the name of the organization. It was metallic in color, and Harry briefly thought it was silver, but when he grabbed it he did not get burned.

"I have also modified the Patronus Charm into a messenger spell, and I can help you learn it when you have the time. It is quite useful to convey a speedy message. That is all for now, feel free to chat up the other members, or perhaps go home and get some sleep."

"I'll stay for a bit."

Harry stood up and walked over to where Remus and Sirius were talking in low voices to each other.

They looked both looked up at Harry at the same time. Remus spoke up. "Ovado. I can't thank you enough…"

Harry waved him off right away, but Sirius spoke up before Harry could say anything. Harry noticed a half empty bottle of Firewhiskey in his hands.

"Despite what you may or may not have heard about me, I welcome you to my house and thank you for saving my friend here. If there is anything I can do for you, I will try."

"So you are Sirius Black? I am afraid I know nothing of whatever criminal record you are running from." Harry lied. "Your name means nothing back in Hungaria…"

"That is good to hear."

"Say, it may not be my place to ask, but I am not familiar with British magics as much as I would like. Do you have a library…?"

"Oh sure. Molly Weasley has been fixing to purge this house so I would check it out before she cleans out all the questionable books. Her kids are staying here while their home is being upgrade with better protections. Third floor, last door on the right. You can probably find anything you can think of in there, but I am not the scholarly type like Remus here." Sirius responded to this by slinging one arm over Lupin's shoulder, and taking a swig of whiskey with the other.

"Thanks."

Harry made his way up the stairs and found the room Sirius told him about. Sirius was verykind, giving him the opportunity to look through his family's library to a complete stranger. Even if he did hate his family and everything it stood for. Perhaps it was the alcohol making Sirius so chipper.

He entered the library without making a noise and without anyone following him. He was surprised to see Mad-Eye Moody in there, browsing for something interesting no doubt. Maybe information on how to turn a man inside out without killing him.

Harry looked at various titles of the books, and was surprised at the selection that was there. He picked one up and random and came to the immediate conclusion that the Black family was filled with a bunch of sick fucks.

He quickly put that book back and vowed to read the titles more closely. Harry did hear Moody come over and stifle a laugh at the book he put back.

"Best be careful in this place, lad. Many of these books are the likes that shouldn't be seen anywhere near kids of Hogwarts."

"I've never been to Hogwarts." Harry lied.

"In that case, this book may be what you are looking for," Moody went over to a different bookshelf and pulled out a blue colored book. "Restricting yourself to only one type of magic is recipe for disaster in war, I have always told Dumbledore. The trick is to not let yourself be controlled by the magic and not let yourself become those which we fight."

Moody left, having found what he was looking for. Harry looked down at the Book that was handed to him. Arcane Magic, Volume 1, by Polaris Black. A quick look at the inside cover showed that the book was from the 1700's. Harry was unsure of what to think when he saw that a Black actually wrote a book. He decided to not look to deep into it.

Harry took the book and decided he best be leaving. He did not want to overstay his welcome so he made his way back into the main floor and found the hearth he came in from. He took some of the powder and made his exit.

* * *

Author's Notes

Sorry to disappoint you if you were hoping Harry would slaughter the Order. We have to have some plot in the story, not ruling anything out though…

I enjoy worthwhile feedback, such as grammatical and spelling mistakes. I do a lot of proof reading and editing, but I am hardly an expert and it is possible some things escaped my net.

And here is a shout out to DLP. Join our C2 at .net/community/DLP_5_Starred_and_Featured_Authors/84507/

It is the only c2 worth a damn, and many stories far superior to my own are in its library.


	8. Blood

Harry flooed right into the bar underneath the room he was staying in. The name of the inn was called "The Everlasting Eve."

He arrived back in his room and was unsurprised to see the girl still lying dead. She should wake up the next night if there is any consistency to the curse.

Immedietly upon depositing his belongs on the desk, Harry realized how terrible bored he was. He found himself longing to talk to another of his kind, and anxiously waking for the girl to wake up.

He had no friends to talk to, no summer homework to do, and no Hogwarts to look forward to. He did not even have the Dursley's there to berate him.

A hobby is what he required. Or maybe finishing up his magical education on his own? He had plenty of time, after all. Eternity in fact.

There was the ever looming threat of Voldemort though. A dangerous opponent, but he would try to recruit vampires, werewolves, and giants as allies rather than fight them. Dark creatures naturally flock to each other, not because of any magical or physical connection, but rather because of the Ministry's stance against them.

Not having anything else better to do at the moment he started to leaf through that book on vampires he bought what seemed like ages ago. The title of the book was Anatomy of a Vampire by Eldred Worple.

_Blood is essential to a vampire. Most organs that once functioned when the human was alive, no longer function. Some of those organ's functions, however, are replicated by the vampiric curse. A vampire can no longer eat any solid foods. Its body will not process the food and vomit as a result. Liquids can be consumed, but human blood is the only liquid of any nutritional value to the vampire. All other liquids get neutralized. As a side effect of this, even the most powerful potions and poisons will have little effect upon a vampire. This is only partially due to the curse, but more of a result due to being dead._

_Blood more than just grants life to the vampire. The consumption of blood can greatly affect the vampire's personality. Too much blood, and the vampire becomes a frenzied killing machine, unable to be sated. Too little, and the vampire slowly crumbles away into dust. _

_Blood is the fuel for the vampirism curse. With adequate blood, a vampire will slowly replicate many of the processes a normal human would go through. A man who is turned into a vampire at 80 years old, can in fact, regain his body at 30 years old with enough blood and time. The opposite is theoretically true. It is unsure how much blood would need to be consumed, but if a human is turned young, it is possible that the vampiric curse can replicate puberty. _

_A healthy, sane vampire drinks a full share of blood twice a week. For a vampire livening incognito amongst humans, a full share would be divided amongst as many as half a dozen humans as to avoid killing the hosts._

_Most vampires drink half of that, no more than once a week, and in some cases, once a month. These are not healthy vampires, but vampires who have succumbed to the burden of Ministry regulation. With such infrequent feeding, they lose many of the benefits of the curse. They will find that their strength, speed, stamina, and even intellect are being hindered. _

_The continual consumption of blood is what gives vampires their power. The more a vampire drinks, the greater their benefits increase. It is unsure if there is an actual limit to the increase possible. It is known, however, that this idea is what causes the insatiable bloodlust. They become glutton for power and loose themselves to the craving. _

_A vampire is strongest after a fresh feed. So strong in fact that they can even endure direct sunlight for a few minutes that would otherwise be fatal to them. Feeding rejuvenates and regenerates a vampire. Wounds will heal themselves very rapidly during the consumption of blood. A vampire's increased attributes will also be at a max, and slowly taper off as time goes by. The increases to these attributes are temporary for the most part, but as a vampire keeps feeding, he keeps a tiny bit of the increase permanently. _

_This is why elder vampires are to be feared. They have fed for so long, that all of these minute increases in permanent attributes add up over a long period of time, making them much stronger, faster, and smarter than their younger counterparts._

_There is a price to pay for power, and more often than not, it is more than just your soul. Many find resisting the temptation to kill very difficult…_

Harry set the book down to contemplate the chapter. Much of it was common sense stuff that he had already figured out, being a vampire himself.

It was chilling to know that he could become a mindless killing machine if he continued to feed on blood every day. Hell, even right now he did not feel completely in control of his mind and had a lingering urge to feast on someone's blood. He did feed on a dozen people in his first week alone. A dozen and a half if you include the baby.

It did also answer why he was unaffected by both the truth serum he was fed at the Order meeting, and the alcohol at the Leaky Cauldron. It was nice knowing that he could consume other liquids, even just for their muted taste, regardless of having no nutritional value. He did miss the food though.

He was curious to something the book did not answer, at least in that chapter. What effect did drinking magical blood have on a person?

Harry did not know how long he sat there, or how long he was at the Order meeting for, but he felt a great sense of unnatural fatigue dwell up inside of him. His instincts told him the sun is rising, and instead of ignoring it like the day previous, he decided to welcome his death-like sleeping state.

* * *

Alastor Moody was currently walking from the designated apparation zone up to the hillside manor. It was a precaution, and rightfully so. "Constant Vigilance!" is Moody's famous catchphrase.

He was dressed for the occasion; black cloak, silver mask.

He couldn't walk up the hill quick enough. He was glad to get away from the Order Headquarters and the mudblood loving, magic ignorant fools. The majority of them would not even use a 'dark' spell even if it was the only way to save a life. His Lord says that there is no good or evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it.

By extension there is no dark or light magic, there is only magic, and those too weak to harness what it has to offer. The weak are the ones who succumb to the allure.

He himself, one tread a very thin line when he was teamed with the Lestranges, but ever since he had escape from his father's control, he has surpassed that barrier. He is the one in control of his magic, not the other way around. The magic that most would call dark no longer has a grasp on his sanity, and he is the one who can use it without succumbing to madness.

There are only a select few amongst his Lord's followers that can claim the same. The Dark Lord, of course , Dolohov, Rookwood, Karkaroff, Rosier, Mulciber, Malfoy…. Not too many who are actually alive or not in Azkaban.

Of course there were a few others such as the man whose room he had just entered.

"Ah, I see you have been successful with the errand? I trust you have procured the right book? It is essential to our Lord that I brew this potion with haste." Severus Snape inquired.

"Right here, Malicious Mixtures Volume Three. Black will not even notice it is missing. Do you have the polyjuice?"

"Here. You best be off to the Master, he will want a report on the Order meeting, now that I am no longer needed for that."

Barty Crouch took the supply of Polyjuice potion and stuffed it into his bag. His charade as Mad-Eye Moody had been paying dividends to the cause.

The real Moody was imprisoned in the dungeon of the building, most likely never to see the light of day again. His only purpose was a live ingredient harvesting resource. All his useful information had been gleamed from the veteran Auror's mind long ago.

Coincidently, the grizzled auror whose identity he stole was probably the sole fighter amongst the Order who utilized all forms of magic without falling to the insanity. Paranoia and insanity are related to each other, but they are not the same thing.

Barty Crouch Jr. made his way up to the Dark Lord's chambers. He found the Dark Lord working at a desk, writing notes from an old tome he was examining. There were not many amongst the Death Eaters who could say they have seen the Dark Lord studying ancient magics like this. Most just see him on top of his throne, issuing commands.

There were privileges to being his Master's favorite, and this was one of them. He could report to Him in his library, office, or study, without repercussion, and if he was lucky the Master would even teach him a few things personally.

No one was allowed inside His personal room though. That was out of bounds to everyone, and the penalty for going inside is death. Even the Dark Lord needs to sleep occasionally, and he does not want anyone to see him in those brief moments of weakness.

"Barty." The Dark Lord acknowledged. "Report?"

"I have several things to report, Master. Firstly is that Dumbledore is still not suspicious at all toward me, which is good of course. He inducted two new members into the Order today, one by the name of Nymphadora Tonks, related to the Blacks, and second, Ovado Okrevni. Total unknown, a foreigner who got caught up in the Diagon Alley fight yesterday and showed promise. He does not seem the type to be in with the Order though, and I think he will show aptitude towards the more arcane magics. I have already planted that seed into his mind."

"A potential defector?" Voldemort asked curiously.

"Possibly. He just joined the Order, and as far as I can tell, holds no real relationship value with anyone there. He stated his reason for joining was to increase his knowledge of magic. I encountered him in the library directly after the meeting."

"Indeed? That would be hard to do under the watchful eye of Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore's main focus of the meeting was to locate Snape, who he is still is clueless about, and the second reason was quite a surprise. The 50th anniversary of Grindelwald's defeat."

"Yes, tragic." Voldemort said sarcastically. "I assume there is a point?"

"Of course, Master. Dumbledore never killed Grindelwald. He simply locked him up in Grindelwald's own private prison, which he still resides in today. It is called Nurmenguard."

"That is… surprising. I have heard of Nurmenguard before, but it location is a secret that I thought Grindelwald brought to the grave… What does the muggle loving fool plan to do with him?"

"He doesn't plan on doing anything. He suspects Grindelwald might try to escape from the prison on his 50th anniversary, so he will be assigning Order members to guard as the date comes closer. I am unaware of who he will be choosing, but my guess is that it will be separate from the group who he wants guarding the Prophecy Hall in the Department of Mysteries."

"I will admit that the continued survival of Grindelwald I have not foreseen. My first instinct is to kill him to assert my superiority, but that would hardly be a message as most think he is dead anyway. He could be a useful resource to our cause. Try to learn of the location of the prison."

"I will try, my lord."

* * *

Harry woke up with a start.

He readied himself for the night with no delays. The girl would be waking up sometime during the next night

There were a few things Harry wanted to get done, but they were minor. The first was to buy a pocket watch. That was simple. He hated not knowing what time it was as his watch got smashed when he got bitten.

The next task required finding recent newspapers, which he knew from third year the owl post building had. He found a copy of the Daily Prophet from the day he and Cedric were killed. He looked for a Daily Prophet concerning the girl's manor attack that he caused, but that one took some effort.

It was relegated to the 4th page of the newspaper, and did not mention any names. Simply summarized, it said that a notable pureblood's family manor was attacked, moderate damage was caused, the youngest of two daughters was unharmed, but the eldest is presumed dead, body unfound. The work of witches or wizard unknown. The article did not go into much depth, no list of motives, no speculation of attackers.

Quite dull.

Harry put those two old papers into a bag while he bought the current day's newspaper and began to read.

He was most interested in the advertisements, and more specifically, property and house sales. He couldn't live in an inn room for the rest of eternity. There was about a dozen in London for sale alone, although none of them were the manors typically associated with old families like the Blacks.

The most promising was an apartment. While the apartment was in a muggle area, the most convenient part about it is that since the previous owner was a wizard, many protective enchantments would already be in place. That saved him a lot of hassle, since he did not know many of those spells at all.

The price wasn't too bad either, in his mind, at least compared to muggle prices. The wizarding economy is vastly different that the muggle kind, and for good reason. There is hardly any inflation, and the vast majority of wizards rarely interact with muggles more than they have too. Magic makes all the difference, and even with the wizarding world's population at an all time low, they were still self sufficient.

He didn't know how much was in his (stolen) vault, but he imagined it would be more than enough to buy the apartment straight from the owner without having to go through a payment plan or anything like that. He knew he had enough gold in his old trust vault to cover the expense, with extra, and that is not to mention the gold in the main family vault.

Luckily, he had not yet left the owl office, so he wrote out a quick message to the seller, offering to buy the place. An owl for a local message was a mere 3 knuts, and once he paid he made his way to his Gringotts vault to grab his gold.

Gringotts had a decent amount of people still doing business at this hour, nearly 11 PM according to his new matte black pocket watch.

He made his way over to the goblin, who looked up from examining a blue colored gem.

"Yes, Human?"

"I need to visit my vault."

"And does the human have its key?" The goblin sneered.

"Right here," 'the human' replied.

"Very well." The goblin turned around and made a motion to another goblin, who in turn made a motion to another goblin, which another goblin received and walked over. "This human needs to visit his vault. Number 98."

"Follow me." The new goblin said.

Harry followed the goblin to their famous mine cart transport system and hopped in behind.

"Enjoy the ride," the goblin sneered as he turned the lever all the way to the maximum setting.

Harry was unaffected as the scenery soared by. He did not feel remotely sick at all. If he was actually human, he would probably be throwing up all over the place by now.

The goblin got a wicked looked across his face right before a massive vertical drop came. Harry did not enjoy the ride, but he was thoroughly amused at the goblin's antics.

A malicious glint came across the goblins eyes as they approached a waterfall pouring down right across the track. If the ride was not suspicious enough to Harry, this waterfall certainly got his attention.

They passed under it. Harry felt the wetness of the water, but the feeling went away immedietly after a second passed.

A very disappointing look came the goblins face as the cart came to a stop in front of vault 98. Harry had the urge to put the goblin in its place. Disgusting little creatures think they can treat a client like that…

The goblin opened up the door to the vault and Harry walked in. The vault was large, but mostly unspectacular in its holdings. There was nothing but furniture, antiquated furniture that would not look good in any house located on this half of the millennium.

Of course, there was also the gold that was stacked undramatically along the nearest wall. There were also two smile piles of silver sickles and copper knuts, but no more than 10 galleons worth.

Harry took out his wand and repeatedly cast the shrinking charm 'reducio' at the piles of coin until they were all about a quarter the size of a standard pence piece. He levitated the piled into a sack, and then shrank the sack as well.

Harry told the goblin he was finished and they got back in the cart.

The goblin decided that the way they left was going to be even more vicious than the way they came. Instead of quick turns and sharp drops, there were physical barriers that they had to dodge. This included axes sticking out of the walls, really low rock ceilings and falling stalactites.

Harry had about enough of the goblin's bullshit. He saw a low hanging rock soar by, and with a quick movement, he picked up the goblin, pulled it's dagger out of its sheath, slashed its face with it, and tossed the creature right out of the cart. The momentum of the cart made sure that the goblin splattered across the rocks, dying nearly instantly.

The goblin was well and thoroughly dead, but he did not bother to mourn. He wouldn't care if he never had to go to Gringotts again, he had all of the gold out of the vault, and they did not know his identity. He suspected that they knew he was not the real Marius Black who inherited the Potter Vault, and that the goblins were trying to use defensive measures to ensure the continued integrity of the bank.

The cart came to a stop at the entrance. He pulled his cloak tightly to himself, making his outline waver slightly.

A goblin was standing right at the top, and Harry did not hesitate to put the stolen dagger through its throat.

The bloody savage deserved it. Somehow, the wizards have allowed the goblins to hold them by the proverbial balls, by having control over the majority of their wealth. AND they were trying to kill him in the vault tunnels.

Harry would not stand for that. Maybe to old Harry would have, and did, but being bitten and turned into a vampire tends to changes one's perspective on the world.

He yanked the dagger out of the goblins throat and the goblin could not make a death sound other than a faint gargling of blood. He quickly hid the dagger from view and walked through the room like nothing was amiss.

Harry quickly walked out of the bank before anyone could accost him. His escape was soundless, and he didn't think he was seen.

Immedietly upon leaving, and owl swooped down in front of him holding a letter.

_Mr. Okrevni_

_The apartment has not been lived in for several months, and is ready for immediate usage. The rooms are fully furnished, includes a master bedroom, one guest room, one full bathroom, a full kitchen, a dining room, living room, and several closets._

_How about we meet at the Leaky Cauldron to discuss this more, and perhaps come to an agreement? I can meet you right now if you are seriously interested._

Not having a better idea, he sent the owl back with a reply and made his way over to the Leaky Cauldron. Before he even entered, the owl returned once more.

_Excellent. I will be wearing a green hat, green cloak, and I have a dark brown beard. I am also quite on the large side…_

Harry entered the Leaky cauldron and spotted the man right away. The man himself was just arriving and taking a seat at a table. Harry took the seat across from him.

"Mr. Okrevni?"

"Correct. I have the gold right here and will buy it right now. All you have to do is tell me I will be satisfied with my purchase."

"It is an excellent deal and I assure you, you will be satisfied."

"Good. Because otherwise, I may just have to kill you."

The man laughed in response, but Harry did not join in. Instead, he started counting out coins from his back.

A moderate price of 700 galleons was a price well worth a room to call his own.

"Ok then. Here's the key, and the spellstone to control the protections. It's just the standard package; intruder detection, anti-apparation, fire protection and reinforcement on the walls and floor, muggle repelling, and of course, unplottable."

Harry pushed the coins across the table.

"Good. Here you go. Number 107 Hammersmith road, top floor, across from the Starbucks. It is about 5 miles from here. Just sign these forms to claim ownership of the property."

Harry read through the forms. It was plainly laid out and there was no hocus pocus going on to sign away his existence. He signed them.

"Excellent."

They shook hands, Harry received the keys, and they completed what may have been the quickest property sale ever conducted.

Harry left the portly man and headed back to the in to collect his meager belongings and the girl.

Like every other time he returned to the room, the girl was still motionless. This was good, because Harry was afraid she might have woken up while he was gone.

He quickly packed away his random collection of items. He tossed 15 galleons onto the desk and hefted the dead girl over his shoulder.

Harry made his way down to the bar, placed two knuts on the hearth ledge, took some floo powder, tossed the powder in, stepped into the fire, and called out his destination.

* * *

Author's Notes

=D

I appreciate worthwhile feedback, such as grammatical and spelling mistakes. I do a lot of proof reading and editing, but I am hardly an expert and it is possible some things escaped my net.

And here is a shout out to DLP. Join our C2 at FFN /community/DLP_5_Starred_and_Featured_Authors/84507/

DLP_5_Starred_and_Featured_Authors

Dark Lord Potter

It is the only c2 worth a damn, and many stories far superior to my own are in its library.


	9. Another Day, Another Dollar

I've rewritten the chapter so it fits in with the rest of the story better.

* * *

Harry arrived into the apartment via the floo hookup. It was interesting to note that it was a fake hearth, as there was no chimney. This fireplace was there solely for the purpose of floo transportation.

The place was fairly average. There were no hints of any muggle equipment in the place, which Harry did not mind. The decorations were bland as well; not ugly, but not very pretty either.

Lighting was provided by glowing balls of magical light inside of modern looking fixtures. The carpeting was multiple shades of blue and grey mixed. There were no portraits hanging on the wall, but there were some artwork.

Harry found the bedrooms right away and deposited the dead girl in the guest room. The place was not that large after all.

The main bedroom was fairly plain as well. Queen sized bed, a wardrobe, dresser and desk. A few empty bookshelves as well.

The dining room had a table for 4, and the kitchen was fairly unimportant since he did not need to eat.

The living room had two sofas, a few chairs, and coffee table. There were also a few bookcases to match the ones in both the guest and main bedroom.

There were worse ways to spend a few hundred galleons. Harry had a place to call his own, and although it was small, it was infinitely better than the inn room. The first thing he did was close all the window blinds and transfigure the curtains into a darker color and close those as well. Simple color changes were one of the easiest branches of transfigurations, as it could hardly be called such. It was more of a charm than anything.

Harry explored the apartment for awhile, and eventually sorted away all his meager possessions. He was getting anxious for the girl to wake up, so he decided to occupy his mind by exploring more of wizarding London.

He flooed into the Leaky Cauldron and made his way out into Diagon Alley. He was going to explore one of the alleys beyond Ollivander's that connected to Knockturn. It was just a nice as Diagon, but it was farther down the Alley than most people usually go.

On his immediate left were several shops owned and operated by the mysterious and reclusive Ollivander family. There was Ollivander's Fine Wine (since 382 BC), Ollivander's Fine Windows (since 382 BC), and Ollivander's Fine Warding (Since 382 BC) that sold stone products such as crenellated walls and fortifications for a castle.

There were two other Ollivander's Fine Warding (Since 382 BC) shops as well. One offered services that included large scale enchantments, charms, and other spells that are used to protect property. The other was an orphanage that worked with the ministry to find children a home to live in.

The most peculiar of the Ollivander's establishments was Ollivander's Fine Witches (Since 382 BC). There was a second sign with the silhouette of a curvy girl and a tankard of beer, but Harry could see what services were offered by looking at the window. There was a pretty girl in a small, tight fighting outfit, dancing around a pole. The style of the outfit could only be described as magical in nature. It kept changing color as well as shape.

The place seemed to be quite packed at that time of the night. Harry decided against entering though, at least for now. You would have to be either gay or married to not check a place like that out at least once, and Harry was neither of those.

The line of Ollivander's stores ended with that wizard's club. Across the street was a story that looked to be some sort of ingredient store, but he could not tell by the name of the shop, simple called "Rhiannon's Shoppe."

Inside was an assortment of many devices and materials that he had never seen before. A few had a vague resemblance to some of the silver instruments in Dumbledore's office, but Harry couldn't tell you their names or what they did.

Harry eventually went over to the employee at the front desk. "Excuse me, what exactly is this place?"

The employee was quite pretty, Harry observed. Probably in her mid 20's and she had dark brown hair. She didn't seem like the type to sit around inside all day.

"This is my mother's shop. We sell alchemical supplies. Everyone from master alchemists to novice's can find something here. You will also find many trinkets and gadgets, unrelated to alchemy, but simply old and hard to find. Some people would call them antiques, but I call them amazing pieces of craftsmanship."

Harry started to look at the items in a new light after that. Alchemy is not something that is taught at Hogwarts.

The most prominent shelf was one filled with several rows of the similar shaped items. They were labeled as alembics, retorts, and calcinators. The alembics looked like some bizarre misshapen glass bowl/funnel combination. Another shelf nearby had various types of mortal and pestles.

There was a glass display case on one side of the shop that contained items used for transmuting. There was a malachite lattice, as well of several vials of alchemical dragon's blood. There was a curious whirling instrument that had a silvery liquid in the bottom of it that seemed to change before his very eyes.

In the center of the case was a large red stone with the label 'Ruby Transmogrifier." It was a dazzling gem, but Harry could not even begin to guess its purpose. Next to it were other thinly cut gemstones labeled as 'lens'. Harry didn't know it, but the gem lenses are used to filter extraneous metals from an impure substance during transmutation.

In another corner of the room seemed to be where a bunch of raw materials were stored. There was a barrel labeled with a triangle that contained a bunch of small red crystals. There were three other such barrels, each with a different color substance and label, green had an upside down triangle with a horizontal line, yellow had a normal triangle with a horizontal line, and blue just had an upside down triangle.

Aside from the barrels of the strange crystals, there were several smaller contains full of other material; lead, phosphorus, quarts, sulfur, salt, and many others he had never heard of before. He did recognize uranium though, and that raised his eyebrows. He crept away from the uranium and the pail full of gunpowder and went into a different part of the store that did not seem to be related to alchemy at all.

The other side of the store contained various antiques. The first thing that caught his eye was a very old, but very beautiful astrolabe. Harry stared at it for a few minutes trying to figure out how it worked, but he had no success.

There were several other astronomy related items, including a few telescopes and several sextants. Also on a table all by itself was a beautiful model of the solar system. Harry briefly wondered how long wizards have known that the sun is the center of the universe and that the earth is round. Surely they must have figured that out before muggles did? But on the other hand, muggles have been into space, while wizards have not.

A nearby wall had display of growing flowers. They were pitch-black with subtle hints of brilliant purple. They were labeled as 'Black Lotus.' He had never heard of them in Herbology or Potions class, so it probably only had a use in alchemy. Underneath the display of flowers were several pails full of caltrops. They were prepped for enchanting, or so the label said.

Tucked away in the corner of the store were true artifacts. One item in particular was extremely fascinating. He was not exactly sure what he was staring at but it quite beautiful. It had a pure gold handle and pitch black obsidian blade. The blade itself looked like it could have been made with a knapping technique.

The store owner's daughter saw him staring at the item so she walked over and told him about it. "That is a ritual dagger used by the ancient Egyptians. It has arrived here recently, fresh from a discovery of a tomb in Giza. "

"What exactly is its purpose?"

"This particular dagger has an enchantment on it that causes a quick and painless death. When it cuts someone, it will make them bleed until they have bled dry."

"Oh." That seemed kind of lame to Harry. He could do that with his fangs. "Are these rare?"

"Somewhat. They usually end up in an old pureblooded families display case. It makes for a marvelous talking piece. This particular one is actually on the more tame side as far as these daggers go. I've seen over a dozen personally, and some of them can get quite vicious with their previous owner's enchantments. The Egyptian priests were known to be quite powerful, and not all of them were willing to give their sacrifice a painless death. A few daggers like this are found every year, but they don't always come back to England."

"As fascinating as that sounds, I don't think I will be purchasing that today."

"Suit yourself, I am sure we have something that interests you."

They really didn't, but Harry didn't want to be rude and leave with nothing. "I know absolutely nothing about alchemy. Is there a book for beginners, anything that may get my attention and make me interested in the subject?"

"Yes, we have quite a few. The best in my opinion is Alchemical Transmutations of the 4th Order. Written by Paracelsus and is over 400 years old. However, its content is still very much relevant, and many of the top alchemists of our time got started from this book."

"What does '4th Order' mean?" Harry asked.

"4th Order is preparatory material and the fundamental building blocks that all the other orders are founded on. It goes over very basic transmutations. Most of the substances created in the book are used in 3rd order transmutations, and the same can be said about 3rd order substances being used in 2nd order."

Harry didn't really understand what she was rambling on about as she was obviously an alchemist herself, but Harry asked her, "How much is the book?"

"Oh! It's 27 galleons. Alchemy is a very difficult field of study, and not many people currently work in the field. Also, books on the subject are not always easy to come across. This was once a very common book, but not so anymore. "

"Ok, I'll buy it."

Harry took the book and left the store. Who knows, maybe the ancient art of alchemy is not widely practiced for a reason anymore, or perhaps it is fascinating and the wizards of the modern era are just not as skilled as the wizards of past centuries. He did know that one of the main ideas behind alchemy is to turn any substance into gold. That could be very useful, not for the infinite wealth, but to pry the wizarding world's economy out of the hands of the greedy goblins.

The young vampire walked passed a few stores before another caught his attention. It was named "Quality Quidditch Memorabilia."

Harry entered, but he was not exactly sure what to expect. The name suggested it was probably owned be the same people as Quality Quidditch Supplies, or perhaps wizards are truly unoriginal when naming things. The first thing he noticed was the amount products left over from the World Cup. The green of Ireland and scarlet of Bulgaria were plastered everywhere.

There was nearly anything you could think of relating to Quidditch. There were player jerseys that were actually worn in famous games, including Krum's jersey from the World Cup. That was priced at 500 galleons, which made Harry question the world. It was even signed. Harry was very displeased to note that there was a spot in the display where his Gryffindor jersey probably stood not hours ago.

Scavengers.

Harry did not know why that pissed him off so much; that someone acquired his personal effects and was selling them for personal gain. The price on his jersey was plain dumb, yet someone had apparently bought it almost immedietly.

Harry continued to browse through the shops. There were tons of used, but somehow historically significant game balls. The oldest was a decrepit looking quaffle from the 1300's used by Nicholas Flammel as a kid. It barely resembled a modern quaffle at all.

There were buckets full of those stupid player action figures, including a several dozen of Viktor Krum. Luckily, he did not see any of himself. He just didn't look hard enough.

There was another display case full of brooms, most with some sort of history. There were several Firebolts from the World Cup to match the Jerseys, but there were older models such as various Nimbuses, Comets, and Shooting stars, along with vintages from centuries past that could get mistaken for actual tree branches.

There was a spot in the case, labeled 'Wanted to Buy; Harry Potter's Firebolt. See desk for more information.'

That ticked Harry off as well. He barely even got to use the broom, considering the Hogwarts Quidditch league was canceled for a whole year. It did save him from a dragon though. He didn't know who had got the broom from his estate, but he hoped that person would not sell it.

Harry made his way to the counter, but stopped at a small display on the way there. Stacked up in lines were a bunch of omnioculars. Some used, and some unused. They looked like binoculars, but they were much like a video camera in some regards, and better that one in some cases. The used prices varied as some had extremely detailed footage of the World Cup in its entirety, meaning a person could buy the omnioculars and essentially watch the game as if they were there.

Harry realized that the complex magical device could have a use. What that use was, he was not sure, but he decided he would buy one of them anyways.

He made his way up to the front desk and paid for his purchase. "Do you know who bought the Harry Potter Jersey?"

"Ah, That! That was quite a popular item. I do not know the name of the person, but I know I have seen her over at Ollivander's quite a few times. She is a short, fat lady, and not very pretty. It shouldn't be too hard to find her in that place."

"Right, thanks."

Harry took his purchase and left the story. It looked like he would be going to Ollivander's after all. He wanted that jersey. He still couldn't believe some random person would actually buy it.

He entered through the door and saw that the place is what he would describe as a strip club. It was probably a brothel as well. It seemed to be quite busy.

Many patrons were sitting at the bar, chatting up the attractive wenches serving the beer. An equal amount of patrons were surrounding the stage where multiple dancers were putting on a show.

One of the wenches noticed that he was just standing there, and came over to help.

"Hello, sir, Welcome to Ollivander's Fine Witches, since 382 BC."

"Hello, I was looking for –"

Harry was cut off by the arrival of a strange looking man. The man was old, very old. He was wearing an impressive hat, as well an impeccable suit He walked with a cane, although it looked more for display rather than support. It looked like it was made out of gold and ivory, and the man also had three massive gold rings on his fingers.

What struck Harry most, was the monocle in the one eye. Those eyes were very familiar, and he had seen them before. It was Ollivander, or a member of the family at least. The resemblance was uncanny, except this one was dressed as a pimp. His eyes were golden, compared to the other's silver eyes. They were the color of money.

"What is the problem, Mr. Okrevni? Are my girls not up to your standards?"

Harry should not have been surprised that the creepy old man knew his fake name. "Actually, I was just –"

Harry struggled to pull the man's arm off his shoulders as he was steered to a private booth. The old man was impossibly strong. "Curious, Most curious. They say that the witch chooses the wizard, but I believe I know just the someone for you.

Harry wasn't about to say no to an open offer like that. He didn't exactly come here for a show, but his task could wait a little bit.

"It seems to be your lucky day, lad, if you know what I mean." Ollivander nudged Harry in the ribs. "A fine specimen indeed. First time is on the house."

Harry looked around the room and did in fact see many fine specimens of witches. Redheads, blondes, brunettes, big breasts, Alicia Spinnet… There were no platinum blonde-haired girls like the one in his apartment, and he found that somewhat disappointing.

Harry shrugged to himself and decided 'what the hell, what could go wrong?' He went into the room that Ollivander led him to.

It was essentially just a room with a couch in it. There was a small nightstand with a lamp on it, along with a mysterious liquid filled bottle, and a list with contraceptive charms and other sex related spells.

Harry took a seat and waited for only a minute before the door opened.

In walked the ugliest, fattest woman, he had ever seen. Sure, she was probably very nice person and pretty on the inside, or maybe she ate a pretty person at one point in her life… She was definitely not pleasing on the eyes, and a far cry from the women on the dance floor.

The lady closed the door and locked the dead bolt, before rubbing her hands together like he was a piece of meat.

"I'm going to show you a good time, honey."

"Uh…"

Harry backed away from the encroaching behemoth. She was wider than she was tall, and he could not get around her. He then realized that _this_ was the bitch who bought his jersey! She fit the crude description exactly. It was his lucky, or rather unlucky day.

Harry's back was now against the wall, and the prostitute was only about 5 feet away now. Harry chose this time to attacker her, punching one of her multiple chins.

It did not have much of an effect as he essentially punched a giant flesh bag, so he pulled out his stolen Goblin dagger and slashed her throat, and then stabbed her in the face.

The woman went down, but not without a scream. Harry was actually repulsed by the sight of her blood. He could make out fat in the blood, as well as a large amount of cholesterol. He did not fancy consuming that blood at all.

The person was dead, but there was no sign of the jersey. He reached into her purse and found a key to a room in the current building.

Harry made his way out of the room and was surprised no one noticed the screaming. Either the room was charmed to muffle the sound, or maybe screaming was common from those types of rooms.

He found a staircase and made his way up without being accosted. The key had a number 6 on it. He could her moaning coming from quite a few of the rooms, leaving very little to the imagination.

Harry closed his eyes as he opened door #6. Thankfully, the room was unoccupied.

Harry's jaw dropped at the sight of the room, it was frightening. There was Harry Potter memorabilia all over the place.

A shiver went down his spine as he realized that this room was used for role-playing fantasies… with him as the star. There were even whips, handcuffs, and many phallus shaped objects in the room.

Harry spotted his jersey right away. It was still in the bag from the shop, and he was very _very_ grateful that it had not yet been used in some sick pervert's sexual fantasy.

He grabbed the bag and headed back down there stairs and out into the street. The body of the lady was still undiscovered, so he lucked out once more as he made his way back out in the alley to use a floo to get back to his apartment.

* * *

Harry delicately put his Quidditch jersey in his closet. His reaction to the jersey was odd, but it was just something he needed. As of right now, it was pretty much the only item of his past life that he owned, apart from his wand. The name on the back signified that he was once a real person, and that he existed once upon a time. It was a reminder of his former life that he did not want to completely let go of. Not yet, maybe not ever. His past was that of a wizard, and that he can never forget, but now he was something more.

Harry didn't know exactly when the girl would be waking up as a vampire, but he estimated it would be soon. He passed the time by reading though the book that Moody gave him. It was fascinating stuff, and written so a first year could understand it. It was volume one, so perhaps that was the case.

His magic was still very weak, but he did manage to cast a darklight spell. It was essentially the 'lumos' spell, except it created a ball of tangible darkness at the tip of his wand. It was hard to describe what it actually did. It did not fill the room with darkness, but rather when the ball moved it left a lingering trail of blackness. It was not pure blackness either. Harry's eyes just barely managed to pick up faint traces of violet light.

It had no real purpose, but it did look cool. It was the first spell in the book, so Harry could only assume it was a building block for later ideas and magics.

Harry was propped up in a chair, facing the girl's bed, and just waiting. He was deathly still, and she was even stiller.

And then it happened.

There was no warning. The girl's eyes snapped open as she snapped up into a sitting position. Her blue eyes scanned the room for a few seconds before settling on Harry.

She pounced. Harry did not see it coming, but he should have known better. The girl was clearly lost to bloodlust, having not yet fed.

Harry remembered how ferocious he was on his first night, and how he killed two people and drained them dry. He was legitimately worried for his own safety.

The girl slammed him off the chair, sending Harry into the wall. Harry quickly got to his feet and raised his arms up just in time to block the next of her unexpected assault.

In her current rampant state, she could punch like a truck, and Harry's forearms took the brunt of it.

She managed to slowly push him back into the wall, and Harry had to dodge off to the side. Her next punch went straight into the wall, probably damaging both her hand and the sheetrock. Harry had time to back up a few feet before she once again pounced.

Harry picked up the wooden chair and smashed it on her while in midair, sending wood spars in all direction, and the girl onto the dresser.

It did not slow her down for long as she jumped at him once again. She followed up with a series of punches and hazardous clawing.

Harry managed to evade most of them but he got raked across the face with her nails, sending a small splattering of blood onto the mirror.

Both vampires looked at the mirror at the same time. Harry knew he wouldn't see anything, but the girl stared at the mirror for a good 15 seconds before the mirror shattered on its own accord.

Harry pushed her in the momentary distraction with both hands, sending her onto the bed to give himself some space. He took a fighting stance and prepared for another attack.

She jumped at him, and Harry dropped to the ground. He used his own momentum to propel her into the wall.

Except the wall was not there. It was a window.

The girl smashed through the window and plummeted 6 floors to ground. Harry heard the sound of a body smashing into an auto, followed by the sound of the auto's alarm going off.

Harry ran over to the window, just in time to see the girl draining the blood from a muggle who ran over to the smashed saloon car.

The jump looked very far, and he didn't much fancy breaking his legs. It was a good 50 feet below, and vampire or not, that would hurt.

He tucked his wand away as he exited his apartment and ran down the stairs. He accidently knocked down a frail man in his rush. It took him less than a minute to go down the stairs, but that was a minute too slow.

The girl was already gone, and now there was a bunch of people standing around the dead muggle and wrecked auto, most dressed in sleepwear. That body was evidence that he needed to get rid of, but there was nothing he could do about it. There were too many people watching, and he was in the middle of London, population 5 million.

He heard sirens off in the distance, meaning that the authorities were going to be there shortly. He had to find the vampire before they did.

Harry walked up to one of the muggles. "Hey, did you see what happened?" he asked.

"Yeah! A girl fell onto this car from that building over there. She killed this woman before running off in that direction," the man said, pointing down one side of the street. "Scariest shit I have ever seen."

Harry nodded before running off in that direction. About a hundred yards down he spotted a small trail of blood.

He followed it around the corner and saw a body crumpled up against the wall. It was another muggle, and the vampire bite marks on the neck confirmed that it was another victim, and this one had been bled completely dry.

Harry could just make out few drops of blood that created a trail out the opposite side of the alley. He took out his wand and set the body on fire. He decided it would be prudent to get rid of as much evidence as he could.

He quietly walked his way down the alley. Just as he turned around the corner he ran right into one of the constables.

Harry was caught unawares as the constable took an immediate swing at him with his baton. Harry's shirt was covered in blood from the scuffle back in his room, so the action wasn't entirely unwarranted.

Harry took a blow to the side of the head that would have knocked a normal person unconscious, but Harry merely stumbled back before leaping at the constable.

His fingernails met soft eyeball as he grabbed the man's face. He continued to dig in his finger's, and the constable gave out an agonizing scream.

Harry realized that his cover was now blown and more of the authorities would now be closing in on his location. He finished the man off by snapping his neck.

He quickly darted off down the road and another alley and just barely missed being caught in a constable's flashlight. He scurried down the new alley until he stumbled over something.

The vampire looked back and saw it was another body, this one very fresh. He could still see blood slowly dripping out of the corpse's neck.

Harry had no time to think of a clever way to hide the body, and lighting it on fire would give his position away.

Instead, he cast the reductor curse at the corpse's neck, effectively exploding it and hiding the vampire bite. Hopefully that would buy him some more time.

He sneaked off and skirted down the road, hugging the wall very closely. In the distance he could just barely make out the muffled sound of a crying girl. Even further away, he could hear the sound of running feet.

His eyes told another story. He could see his mark, the girl vampire, in the distance. She was sitting on the ground, back up against the wall, and hugging her knees.

And about an equal distance away, except on the other side, was three constables. They both spotted each other at the same time, and then spotted the girl. Harry made a dash for it, hoping to get to the girl before they did.

As luck would have it, he was significantly faster than the constables. He scooped the girl up in both arms and immedietly booked it down a side street. The girl did not protest this action, but rather grabbed onto him as to not fall out of his grip as he ran.

The vampiress, he reminded himself. That's what she is. 'Vampire' is a generic term similar to 'human' or 'man' as in 'mankind.' It also denotes the male gender of vampire, while vampiress denotes the female gender.

She was soaked in blood, and for good reason. She did suck a half dozen muggles dry. She continued to sob into his chest as Harry carried her back to the apartment.

Harry wasn't sure what to think. One minute, she was attacking him, the next she was flying out the window, and after that, killing and draining a bunch of muggles of their blood. And to top it off, she snaps out of the haze, only to realize what she has done, and what she has become, and starts to cry.

Girls.

To be fair, most would cry upon realizing that they have become a monster. Harry did. She did. The feeling goes away quickly though, when you realize that being a vampire has a lot more potential than a human.

Harry could hear the shouts of the constables as they continued to chase onto him. Harry kept a firm grip on the young vampiress as he weaved through parked cars and light posts.

After a minute of running, the shouts started to get fainter, but just as he thought he was in the clear a police cruiser roared past him with lights and siren blaring. He ducked behind a parked auto just in time.

Harry took a different direction after that, but he was not really sure where he was. Nothing looked familiar as he continued to run.

* * *

By the time he arrived back in the apartment, it was nearly 3 AM. The crime scene was cleared up when he arrived, and he made the walk up the stairs without incident.

He dumped the girl into the bathtub right away, and turned the taps on. The girl did not seem to be crying anymore and gave Harry a questioning look.

Harry put a green nightgown on the counter as he turned to her and said, "I just bought this place. I don't want you dripping blood on the carpets. I trust you can wash yourself?"

She nodded in response. Harry left and closed the door behind himself.

She would come out when she was ready. Or maybe she would drown herself, only to realize that was impossible. Either way, reality would continue to crash around her when she realizes the extent of what she willingly turned herself into.

And if she was smart, she would embrace it.

Just like he was.

* * *

Author's notes.

I tried to keep a few of the themes from the old chapter as they are part of the plot.

I am just building the magical world a little bit. Harry isn't buying random shit like he would in most other indy!Harry stories. Everything I write has a purpose, even if that purpose is not immedietly clear.

As usually, if you spot any glaring grammar or spelling mistakes, please feel free to post them.

The girl's identity is revealed next chapter. It should not be that much of a surprise if you read my profile. I already had 3k words of that chapter typed out when I decided to redo this one.

I am a member of the Dark Lord Potter forums, and if you like good stories, far better than my own, than I suggest checking out the website and subscribing to the community here at FFN. The c2 is called "**DLP 5-Starred and Featured Authors"**

It should not be hard to find, as it has the 6th most subscribers out of any community. Help us get to the top 5 and knock off the slash c2 by subscribing. Anyone who likes the Draco/Harry pairing should go get their brain checked out, not because of the gayness, but because of how seriously fucked up just the thought of that relationship is. There is still a chance that all you 14 year old girls and boys will turn into decent adults if you quit that stuff while you still can.


	10. The Vampiress

Preface: If you have not read the rewrite of the previous chapter, I suggest you go and do so. This chapter should still make sense either way though.

* * *

Ron Weasley was in one of the best moods of his life. He had just made 100 galleons. 100 galleons! That is more than his dad makes in a month!

Ron had a shit eating grin on his face as he walked out of the floo in number 12 Grimmauld Place. Currently there was a partial Order meeting going on, so he made his way up to one of the rooms on the second floor. He had been to Diagon Alley with his twin brothers. They were there for business reasons, scoping out possible investors. They have been working on their joke products and have expanded into preliminary testing of their owl-order business.

Ron himself had made a few silver helping them to create the actual order forms. It was a good change of pace from having to clean rooms in the musty old Black manor.

He entered into the room Hermione and Ginny had been sharing. Hermione was here as a precaution. If Dumbledore said Voldemort is back, then Ron believed him. As did his whole family. Well, everyone except for Percy; he was a prat. The Grangers were having protections cast on their house, just like the Burrow. Dumbledore felt that former friends of Harry Potter were in danger.

Hermione and Ginny were still grieving, but Ron had come to accept that his best friend was dead. He accepted that when his estate was divided up and he had gotten Harry's Firebolt broom.

He laid down his bag of gold and new broom onto Hermione's bed. She was starting to show interest in him, which he didn't mind. She wasn't very pretty, but if he played his cards right, maybe he could get laid.

Hermione and Ginny were once again looking through Harry's picture album, the one that Hagrid had given him. They had updated it with more recent pictures of Harry.

Ginny noticed something was off right way. "Ron! That is not Harry's broom. What did you do with it?"

"Er, well, I sold it," he responded lamely, "But I got another firebolt AND some gold! It was a deal I could not pass up."

"Ron! You greedy, insensitive, prat! That was Harry's! That was more than just a broom, the memories are priceless," Hermione scolded.

"Not in Quality Quidditch Memorabilia it ain't. In Quality Quidditch Memorabilia I got me 100 galleons," Ron replied with a triumphant look on his face.

"You traded priceless memories for some gold," Ginny repeated in disbelief.

"And a broom," Ron reminded them. "It is an identical Firebolt. Better condition actually."

"Still…. You are going to share the gold with me, right? I am your sister."

"Alright," Ron said slowly, "Just don't tell mum."

A wicked glint came across Ginny's eyes as she rubbed her hands together. "Great."

* * *

In the same building, a partial meeting of the Order was being held. Dumbledore was not trying to separate his Order; it was just that this group of people were all performing the same task for him. That task was to guard the Hall of Prophecies in the Department of Mysteries, deep in the Ministry building.

The meeting would primarily be focused on the specifics of their duties. He would be holding a second meeting later, with members he chose to guard Nurmenguard. Of course, combined meetings would still be held regularly. Battles were won and lost on the flow of information, and control of that information was essential.

His select group of individuals included the elder Weasleys, Tonks, Shacklebolt, Moody, Diggle, Lupin and Doge.

His group for Nurmenguard included Okrevni, Podmore, Vance, Jones, Black, Bill Weasley, and his own brother Abe.

The Hall of Prophecy group was experienced. The youngest by far was Tonks, but she worked at the ministry so it was the logical spot to put her in. Her metamorphmagus ability was priceless. The next youngest would be Lupin, and he was a dozen years older. They were all skilled though, and he put his trust in all of them.

Dumbledore was about to start with the official business but it looked like Moody had something to say first.

"There are some disturbing rumors going around the Ministry that I would like to address first, if you don't mind Albus?" Moody asked in his gruff voice.

"By all means, tell us what you have heard."

"The rumor is that Fudge is looking to get one of his people into a teaching position at Hogwarts."

"Ah yes, I have heard something similar. With you not teaching another year, and Snape missing, I do have my work cut out don't I? Do you know who he chose?"

"It was to be Dolores Umbridge. With her death, it is unknown who he will try for now."

"Ah, yes, most tragic when I read about it this morning," said Dumbledore without a trace of remorse in his voice. "Do you have any recommendations for who to hire? I trust your judgment of course."

"I have confidence that we will find Severus to take up his role of Potions Master once more. One just doesn't disappear off the face of the Earth without leaving a single trace."

Dumbledore gave a noncommittal nod of his head.

"As for Defense, I offer myself. I know I said I would only teach for a year, but with the advent of the Dark Lord once more, the students needs to know how to defend themselves now more than ever. I may not be the most sane wizard to have ever lived, but I have learned a thing or two in my life time."

Dumbledore clasped his hands together. "Very well. I cannot think of a good reason to not accept your generous offer. At least I will know my students will have a productive year. It will be hard to do guard duty and teach classes though, so I cannot in good conscious allow you to do both. I told Minerva the same thing."

"Fair enough. The children are the future of the country, so it is imperative they know how to fight," Moody replied. He was good at laying the bullshit on thick.

"Wise words, my friend. Wise words."

* * *

_**Popular wizarding club "Ollivander's" attacked!**_

_Late last night there was an attack at the popular club "Ollivander's". The club is owned by the mysterious Ollivander family, and has been in operation for over 2000 years. The proprietor is unsure of anyone who harbors any feelings of hate strong enough to attack his club. He continued with saying that everyone usually leaves satisfied and with a smile on their face._

_With the attack on the club by assailants unknown, there was one death that we are sad to inform the country about._

_The dear undersecretary to our very own Minister, Dolores Umbridge, was found dead inside the building. She was found in a private room, with fatal stab wounds on her body. She was the only casualty, and her body was not discovered for several hours. When asked if there were any witness who saw anyone suspicious, several people voice their opinions._

"_It was a man wearing a robe. I saw him leave the room the body was found in several hours ago."_

_Another man agreed with this assessment. "I saw the man wearing a robe. It was dark colored."_

_The report was corroborated by several others who all saw this mysterious man wearing a robe._

_So please, citizens, if you see a suspicious man wearing a robe, please contact the Aurors immedietly. The man is considered dangerous, so __do not__ confront him yourself._

Minister Fudge threw down his paper in disgust. _Man wearing a robe._ He was wearing a robe right now! Half the population fit that description.

Whoever wrote that article should be fired. They were going to get the Aurors tied up all day with reporting to false sightings, and he could hardly afford that. There has been way too much suspicious activity going on for his liking.

"Yes…"Fudged decided, "Old Barnabus Cuffe does owe me a few favors…"

His biggest concern was that of Dolores Umbridge, his second in command. She would be very hard to replace and she would be playing an essential role at Hogwarts this year. Dumbledore has two empty spots on his teaching roster. Word through the grapevine was that Snape had disappeared without a trace. Also, old Moody mentioned that he did not want to teach for more than a year, and Fudged hoped that did not change. Hopefully Dumbledore would not be able to fill either of those positions. The Daily Prophet's subtle slander campaign which he had been encouraging had seen to that. He has been working the angle to show that a ministry approved teacher would bring up the falling standards of Hogwarts, and while Dumbledore did not teacher personally, he did hire the current staff.

When the headmaster could not fill a teaching position, the Ministry could step in to ensure the children of the country got a proper Ministry-approved education. There were rules to follow of course, but public opinion was worth a lot more than the factuality of rules. The Ministry has no real legal ground to stand on when placing a Ministry worker into the school, as the Ministry has no say over the school at all.

But that was about to change.

Fudge had to be careful though, he was playing a delicate game. Holding the 50th anniversary of the defeat Grindelwald, and defaming the defeater of Grindelwald at the same time was not an easy task. The way it was going now, people did not hate Dumbledore, but rather were sympathetic over his plight, asking him to step down while he was still of his own mind. To leave while he still had some popularity. They were trying to stroke the man's ego a little bit, reminisce about old times, and suggest perhaps he has been at the headmaster for a little too long and it is time for someone else to take over the reins. Someone younger and someone who has not lost focus on the main purpose of the school. He hoped Dumbledore would see the celebration as a good day to retire.

Fudge was brought out of his musings by a knocking at the door.

"Enter."

In walked a regal looking man with blond hair, a man he had seen many times before; his advisor, Lucius Malfoy.

"Ah, dear Lucius. I am afraid you caught me at a bad time."

"My apologies, Minister. I am sorry about the loss of Dolores… a sad day for us all," Lucius responded. He did not look apologetic or sad at all.

"Yes, now I need to figure out who could possibly takeover Dolores's eventual role at Hogwarts come fall. She was the perfect candidate."

_I'm sure. _"I may have a solution."

"You know I value your opinion Lucius. I always have an ear open for your ideas." _And a pocket for your coin._

"My wife Narcissa would be more than willing to teach. She is fully qualified to teach any class in that school, having got O's across the board in her NEWTs. She supports me, and I support the Ministry, so she would be more than happy to preach whatever Ministry ideals you are trying to push through the system."

Fudge pondered the situation for a bid, "Yes, that might just work. We are lucky Snape has disappeared to Merlin knows where. I am curious if Dumbledore got old Moody to teach for another year? Who knows, maybe your wife will end up better than Dolores would have done anyways," Fudge furrowed his eyebrows in frustration, "Go ahead and tell your wife that she may have a job at Hogwarts this coming year. I just have to make sure Dumbledore doesn't find a candidate."

"I will do that. As long as Snape remains unfound, I will run interference on Dumbledore.

"Thank you Lucius, I don't know what I would do without you."

Lucius took his exit. He mumbled "me neither" under his breath. Of course Fudge didn't know that Snape had no plans of returning anyway, not with Barty Crouch as Dumbledore's closest confidant.

* * *

Moody was sitting quietly at the Riddle Manor dining room, feasting on a meatball sandwich for lunch. His polyjuice was just wearing off as he started to eat. The house elves did a good job, as always. The more you threatened and hurt them, the better the food was.

It was a good system.

His day was off to a good start. It took no effort to become the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher for the second year in a row. Supposedly there was a curse on the position that prevented such a thing, but hopefully his Master could fix that. The Dark Lord could fix anything.

Speaking of which, his Master just walked into the room, with Lucius Malfoy in tow. The Dark Lord took a seat at the head of the table while Lucius took a seat across from Barty on the Dark Lord's left.

The Dark Lord clicked his fingers, and an elf arrived with his meal. No words were exchanged as the Dark Lord inspected it. It looked suspiciously like a human leg off a small child, or possibly a large baby. Moody did not want to know either way.

"Good news milord. Dumbledore agreed to allow me to teach for another year."

The Dark Lord took a bite out of the leg of meat before responding. "Excellent. Lucius has similar news to report, do you not?"

"I do, master. With the death of Fudge's lackey Umbridge, he was unsure of what to do. I offered Narcissa to the spot, and he accepted. There should be no problem getting her the Potion's position."

"Good. Dumbledore shall fall swiftly then. He will keep a close eye on your wife, giving Barty a few excellent opportunities for subterfuge. Recruitment should be much easier as well. Have you learned of whom he has guarding Nurmenguard and the Hall of Prophecies?" Voldemort asked, switching his attention to Barty.

"Yes. The Weasleys," Barty responded, and he listed off the rest of the names. He didn't know exactly who was guarding Nurmenguard, but it was a simple process of elimination and knowing who was not at the last partial meeting.

"And you haven't learned the location of Nurmenguard?"

"I do not believe the old man has told anyone yet."

"Very well. Continue with that task. Use force if necessary and I don't have to remind you to not get caught."

"Of course, my lord."

"And here, take this. This will bypass the curse of the Defense position at Hogwarts."

Barty accepted the token the Dark Lord conjured out of thin air. The token had a snake on it in the shape of an S. "You are most generous, master."

* * *

Harry was nervous, but he was not sure why. Actually, he did know why, and the reason was on the other side of the bathroom door.

The girl had been in the bathroom for well over an hour, according to his new pocket watch.

Harry occupied his time by reading a passage from the book; Vampires: Fiends of the Night.

_It is estimated that one out of every 100,000 people is a vampire. In England, that is approximately 500 vampires. Out of those, less than two percent can be considered an elder vampire. That is to say, a vampire over 500 years old. _

_And even rarer still, is the vampire witch or wizard. Some estimations show that they are ten times rarer than an elder._

_This is due to a few reasons. A vampire with magic can become very powerful, far more powerful than a normal witch or wizard. As such, they are often hunted by both normal witches and wizards, and as well as other vampires. These magical vampires are recluses, and are rarely ever seen. No one knows where they live for certain, but it is thought that they seclude themselves away with ancient magics from their original life._

_If one were to find a one of the vampire's hideouts, they would discover information and knowledge beyond their dreams. And a swift death. No one has ever fought against one of these and lived to tell the tale._

_There is another reason why these vampires are so rare. And that is the way that they are made. Magical blood is poisonous to a normal, muggle vampire. A normal vampire will combust into flames upon consuming a large amount of magical blood. This is actually the second most common way for a normal vampire to die, the first being overexposure to the sun, resulting in ignition._

_While it is theoretically possible that a normal vampire could turn a wizard into a vampire, it has never been documented before as the circumstances would have to be extremely fortunate. The combustion of a vampire is very quick, and the opportunity to drink the blood passes by in seconds._

_All the known, past or present, magical vampires have been turned by other magical vampires. There is evidence to support that each of the current magical vampires are actually from a different generation, being that each one turned exactly one other into a vampire. It is quite possible that one of these vampires is responsible for bringing the original vampiric disease to England._

_The powers these vampires can wield are unfathomable. We can consider ourselves lucky that there are not many of them active in the community. In fact, we only know the name of one of these vampires. He refers to himself as Ezekial, but he is better known as 'The Soulless One." He is theorized to live -_

Harry put the book down as he heard the bathroom door slowly creak open.

A few seconds later the girl slowly walked out wearing the green nightgown he put out for her. Her hair draped across her shoulders and chest, giving her a look of innocence.

"Hi." Harry gave a wave, which the girl shyly returned.

She tried to say something back but all that came out was a low whistling sound.

"It will take a bit to get used to having to breathe to talk, but you should get the hang of it. Come, sit." Harry patted the seat next to him on the couch. He placed the book down on the coffee table.

He set up an inkwell, quill, and parchment, having suspected this would happen. Harry let her write the first question.

_What did you do to my sister and my parents?_

"Nothing. Your parents were not home, and I let your sister sleep, unharmed," Harry replied before asking, "Do you know who I am?"

She shook her head. Harry took out the first of two Daily Prophets. She began reading the circled article.

When she was done reading, her head snapped up and she made direct eye contact with Harry for nearly a minute. She tried to speak, but all that came out was "hrhhhfffff."

_Harry Potter?_ She wrote down instead.

Harry gave a small nod of the head. "Now you know me, but I don't know you. I must admit I chose your home at random, and I was not expecting a magical family." Harry slid the second Daily Prophet over to her, and drew a question mark next to the small paragraph. "I needed money at the time."

The girl seemed to be processing his identity still as she thought about what to write. _You took me from my family and sister without even knowing my identity? You quite possibly ruined their lives, even if you did not kill them._

"I am sorry. You shocked me when you dropped your glass, and I reacted instinctively, and that is to attack and kill. It can be very hard to control yourself when there is blood to be had."

The answer didn't seem to quell her angry glare.

_My name is Daphne._

"Daphne… ?" Harry asked. He did not know anyone by the name of Daphne.

She rolled her eyes.

_Greengrass. We are in the same year, and even share several classes together. We were even paired up in potions for two weeks. __Idiot._

"So you are Daphne Greengrass, and if you were in my potions class that means you were in Slytherin?"

_Brilliant deduction. _Daphne wrote. Harry could feel the condescension coming off her.

"So when is your birthday?"

Daphne tried to talk this time, and was moderately successful when she whispered very softly, "December 7th."

Harry managed to hear the whisper with his sensitive hearing, but just barely. A human would not have heard anything at all.

"December 7th? Mine is July 31st."

"Friends?" She asked in a slightly louder whisper.

"Aside from Ron and Hermione? Well, I suppose the Weasley twins and Ginny. I got along all right with my other years mates as well, and the Quidditch team. I guess I should consider them former friends now, given my condition…"

She pondered his last phrase for a few seconds before responding. "My best friend and the only one I can really count on is Blaise. I do get along with the rest of my house alright though."

"Blaise?" Harry asked.

"Zabini. Black hair, longer than mine. Brown eyes, tanned skin, and shorter than me. C-Cup," she mentioned the last part while brining her hands up to her chest.

"As compared to…?" Harry asked, looking down at where her hands were, before looking back up at her face. They were nice, in his biased teenaged opinion.

"Never mind you. Doesn't matter now, I will never grow up into a woman and all my friends will…"

Harry decided to change the subject. "What is your sister's name?"

"Her name is Astoria, and her birthday is October 26th," Daphne continued in her hoarse whisper, "She is two years younger than us, starting her 3rd year. She is in my house, but she is far more popular, even amongst the other houses. What about you? What about the relatives you live with?"

Harry hesitated briefly. He had no reason to lie to her, but he did realize that the Dursley's are an unfinished chapter in his life. "I did not find out I was a wizard until I was eleven. I lived in a cramped closet under a set of stairs for the first 10 years of my life. My aunt is related to my mother, and I think she was jealous of her. My aunt, uncle, his sister, and my cousin all hate me, and I hate them just as much. They have been nothing but hostile towards be ever since I can remember but I have never done anything to them, but to them existing is more than enough to earn their hate and contempt."

Daphne looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"Can you tell me what I look like? I haven't seen my own face since before I died…"

Daphne turned back towards him and raked her eyes across his face. "You look different than what I remember, but now that I know who you are I can see the resemblance... Your face is gaunter, but it would be hard to put an accurate age to it. Your eyes… they are still green but they are more of a dark forest green rather than the brilliant green they once were. I don't see any indication of where your scar was, and without your messy hair and glasses one would be hard pressed to call you Harry Potter."

Harry voiced his appreciation. "I've run into Dumbledore and he showed no sign of recognition. Same with Moody, Lupin, and the Weasley's."

"What about me? Do I still look normal?"

"I don't know what you looked like before… You don't have any freckles. Your nose is normal. Your face is slightly angular… I guess aristocratic is the word. Maybe a slightly gaunt look, but a completely liquid diet will do that. Dark blue eyes… I would say you are quite pretty."

"Prettier than Cho?" She asked. It seemed like knowledge of his crush on Cho Chang was an open secret.

"Definitely."

There was an awkward silence. "I've never been called pretty before. I never thought the first time would be from Harry Potter of all people."

"Well, I've never actually called a girl pretty to their face before either," retorted Harry.

Daphne changed the subject. "Do you have my wand?"

"I do. I am not sure how much use it will be though."

Harry handed over her wand and she attempted to cast the levitation charm. Nothing happened.

"I thought I would be able to use magic… Can you?" She was quite disappointed.

"A little bit. I couldn't do any magic when I first woke up. Actually come to think of it, I couldn't do any magic until I took your blood."

"How many muggles did you drink from before you met me?" Daphne asked curiously.

"Probably over a dozen."

"And you could not do any magic at all until you drank my blood?"

"Yeah…"

"Don't you see?"

"What?"

"You drank my blood.

"Yeah."

"Magical Blood."

"Uh-huh."

"And then you could perform magic immedietly after that."

"…"

"Drinking magical blood allowed you to do magic."

"Drinking magical blood gave me the ability to do magic… Wow, how could I not make that connection? That is quite obvious."

"Well, we could go out and prove the theory once and for all."

"Now would probably not be a good idea. The sun is about to come up," Harry said, checking his pocket watch.

"Tomorrow then. And then you can also tell me what you have been up to since you died. I am sure it is something exciting."

Harry nodded his head as he made his way to the master bedroom. Daphne went into the guest room. The sun just started to peak over the horizon as he settled himself down in his bed.

* * *

Author's notes

There you go. It should not come as a surprise that Daphne is the girl I picked. This is the first vampire!Harry/vampire!Daphne fic out there, so hopefully it will be memorable. I don't really buy into the ice queen!daphne thing that many fics seem to emulate. I am more a fan of the 'secret Slytherin girlfriend' type of stories' but this story cannot go that route. Naturally, my Daphne has a background, but you will have to wait until next chapter. All we know right now that she is 15, is in Slytherin, and Harry finds her pretty. Harry also finds a lot of girls in his school pretty, as he is a 14 (soon to be 15) year old boy. So really, we don't really know anything about her yet to be judgmental. She is an OC that I will do my best to develop into a real, believable person.

As usually, if you spot any glaring grammar or spelling mistakes, please feel free to post them.

I am a member of the Dark Lord Potter forums, and if you like good stories, far better than my own, than I suggest checking out the website and subscribing to the community here at FFN. The c2 is called "**DLP 5-Starred and Featured Authors" **It has just entered into the top 5 c2's knocking out the slash c2. That is an achievement, and gives me a smidgen of hope in humanity.


	11. Delusions of Grandeur

Harry awoke from his sleep with alacrity that no human should possess. As soon as the last sliver of sun went below the horizon, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his chest and mind.

The vampire still had some of his old tendencies and routines stuck in his mind. He grabbed his clothes stuff and entered the bathroom. It never hurt to be clean, so he really didn't mind the shower. In his mind, he still had to make up 10 years of inadequate cleanliness at the hands of the Dursley's. Not to mention it is much easier to harness magic when your body, mind and soul are purified from the day's wear and tear.

Harry donned on his new cloak when he was finished. He went to go see if Daphne was ready to go hunting yet as what she told him yesterday was still fresh on his mind. In fact, he dreamed of nothing but that idea.

Dreaming was something he was not really used to. While on the outside, he did not move a single inch while sleeping, and his mind was very much active. He did not really dream anymore, it was more of a subconscious state of perpetual thought. He could do nothing but think while his body recuperated. His body did not show his brain activity at all. He did not have REM sleep, twitching, rolling over, night sweat, or morning wood. That last one he was extremely thankful for, but that thing that hung between his legs still had a mind of its own during the rest of the day.

The purpose behind the sleep was important. It regenerated the body. Even simpler – it kept him immortal. By skiving off sleep Harry would not give his body a chance to regenerate. It regenerated more than simply physical damage to the body, but metaphysical damage as well; the type of damage that normal humans cannot understand. Going out in the sun and skipping the regenerative process did more than just damage the skin, but hampered the vampiric curse as well.

Blood was the fuel for the regenerative process, as could be expected. You needed both, but if you lacked one, you could simply make it up with the other, at least for the short term. Over-indulging in blood is a quick way to regenerate catastrophic damage, as well as restore damage caused by neglecting the natural vampiric sleep cycle. The sleep cycle is only as useful as the blood intake though.

A lack of either sleep, or blood, is quite an obvious thing to behold. The lack of blood creates a very decrepit looking vampire, lacking in most of its abilities and generally lethargic compared to its normal brethren. Too much blood and no sleep, and you have a healthy looking vampire, but also a crazy, psychopathic, uncontrollable murdering monster.

That is why both are necessary. You can overindulge in blood, but as long as you 'sleep it off,' you can offset the effects off uncontrollable rage, at least for the short term. That is one of the reasons why newly turned vampires are not all murdering beasts, and that is because while they may over-indulge in blood in their first months because they do not know better, they also sleep during their natural times because most lack the willpower to fight it.

To a vampire, the idea of 'short term' can be as long as months or even years, because to immortals the concept of time is vastly different when you have no natural expiration date. Harry was somewhat thankful for that, because he has missed some sleep, and he has over-indulged in blood. But he knew he would have to make up for it down the line eventually. He was fairly confident his natural instincts would tell him when.

And well, if they didn't, a bunch of innocents would most likely end up dead.

Harry tucked all those thoughts that he thought of while sleeping into the back of his head as he set off to look for the other vampire in his flat. He expected that Daphne was exactly in the same spot he left her in.

The door to the guest room Daphne was using was currently open, so Harry just walked right in.

That may have been a mistake.

The girl vampire was currently standing next to the wall, facing away from him, and doing stretches. She stood on one leg, while hugging the other leg to her chest, making it completely vertical. Harry had never seen someone that flexible before.

Without warning she dropped her backwards onto her hands, arching her back in the process. She looked completely at ease, as if it was some part of an old routine. That could very well be the case, and Harry knew all too well that he still followed some of his old routines from when he was human. If anything, vampirism may have added an elegance to her stretching that would have been otherwise absent.

Or perhaps not.

There was something about her that made Harry curious. Harry could tell that the way she held her self was not a result of her vampirism. She held herself regally, and her speech was eloquent and slightly old fashioned. She seemed to hold herself as a pureblood of the highest standards, almost as if she was nobility, but it was very subtle and understated.

She was almost the exact opposite of Malfoy in that regards, yet the result was much more effective. Maybe it was the fact that Malfoy seemed much more like a Gryffindor than a Slytherin at times, and perhaps Daphne acted like most children from the Old families act, but Harry couldn't be certain.

But she was interesting, despite it seeming like she tried to make herself seem as uninteresting as possible, but that just made her more interesting. Harry couldn't imaging that these stretches were done in anything but the most private of locations, as it showed her acting in a way that seemed almost out of character for a pureblood heiress. And Harry made that conclusion even though he barely knew her.

There is one thing he did know for certain. One's outside appearance often has very little to do with their actual personality. Harry himself was a shining example of that. On the outside, he was the savior of the wizarding world. On the inside, he was far different than anyone expected their hero to be. He did not have a monopoly on hidden feelings, so it was more than likely that what he saw Daphne as, and what Daphne thought herself as, were two very different things.

Case and pint; her stretches. Harry had never heard of any witch taking active physical care of her body. Not even the Quidditch teams would, and that was the closest thing to a physically exhausting activity they had. Harry pretty much concluded that he knew next to nothing about her, and a conclusion based on outward observations alone would most likely be incorrect.

Harry half expected her to finish her stretches with a back flip or something, but his eyes were too focused on the way that particular stretch emphasized Daphne's prominent breasts. They weren't bad for a 15 year old dead girl. Of course, he would probably say that about nearly every girl at that age, minus Millicent Bulstrode. And the dead part… It was the curse of being a teenage boy. Sure, he may have 'grown up' mentally quicker because of his rough past, having killed a man with his bare hands at age 11 and all that, but physically, he was nought but a boy.

"Hey… I am I interrupting something?"

Harry startled her when she saw him standing in the doorway. She slipped out of the stretch and fell into an undignified heap on the ground.

Just as quick as she fell, Daphne was back up on her feet and brushing herself off.

"Potter! What the hell?"

"Sorry… your door was open."

"Oh," Daphne responded blandly, "Time for our experiment?"

"Not in those clothes…" Harry told her. Her shirt was a vivid blue, not a good color to blend in with. "I got robe you can wear over that."

Harry brought her into his room and tossed her a robe identical to the one he was wearing. It was never a bad idea to have extras.

Daphne inspected the robe for a few seconds before slipping it over her shoulders. Harry felt a little awkward at that moment, as it seemed a little too intimate. He did not have much experience close up with girls. He was thankful that she deemed the robe good enough to wear for herself.

"Where do you think would be the best place for our 'experiment'?" Harry asked.

"Knockturn would probably be the best. Although it would be fun to do it right in front of the Ministry entrance."

"I think that would attract too much attention. Plus, I don't know where that is."

"Me neither, most either apparate or floo in, unless they live really close by."

"Well then, to the Alley we go."

Harry did not have real good feeling about their plan. It went without saying that they had to be real careful. With recent attacks Aurors will probably be on the lookout for anyone suspicious. Of course, the Aurors didn't know the perpetrator of the night's attacks was going to be a vampiric Harry Potter.

Harry tossed in a handful of floo powder into the hearth and called out his destination – "The Four Flagons Inn!"

He came out the other side unharmed, and the vampiress followed shortly after. She did not seem threatened by the magical fire at all. Daphne walked out of the tavern like she owned the world, and Harry could just make out a slight hint of disgust upon her face as she observed the drunkards.

Harry brought Daphne into a dark corner within viewing distance of the front entrance to two taverns. "We will follow a drunkard when one leaves. Hopefully they will not be sober enough to notice us following them."

It was less than a minute later when a man stumbled out of the tavern. The man yelled back in, "Fine! I'll take me coin elsewhere!"

The man walked down the street, with a slight tilt in his step. Harry tapped Daphne on the shoulder before setting off after the man.

Daphne followed closely behind as the man slowly made his way down the alley, presumably towards the next tavern.

Harry and Daphne did their best to be inconspicuous, but the normal denizens of the alley were generally mindful of their own business. Everyone in this place was slightly off kilter and most had their own slightly questionable agendas. About the only thing that would get their attention is a large fire, or possibly a large contingent of Aurors.

They had one close call when a small kid ran in front of them and pick pocketed the drunken man. He did not even look at the two vampires as the man's coin for more alcohol vanished just quickly as the man's sorrows did in bottle.

Harry saw his opportunity when the man walked in front a small side alley. Harry quickly clamped his hand of the man's face and dragged him into the darkness.

Harry bit down on the man's neck and began to drink in earnest. The man was quiet as the lifeblood seeped down Harry's gullet. The man was clearly too drunk to realize he was dying.

Seconds later, something unexpected happened.

Daphne jumped in and bit down on the other side of the man's neck.

Harry was just aware of his surroundings enough to notice how her eyes were slightly clouded over in bloodlust. Daphne's dark blue eyes started to gain an otherworldly glow as she feasted upon the man. Harry could imagine his eyes glowing similarly upon consuming blood, but there was nothing to be done about that. It was actually quite scary, and if another person saw it they would probably run in fear if the sight of drinking blood didn't do that first.

The man was drained dry, and Harry let the corpse drop to the ground. He was surprised that he remained somewhat lucid during the whole feeding, but the same could not be said for Daphne.

Daphne was looking up at the moon as she slowly licked the blood off her lips.

That action sent shivers down Harry's spine, but he found that sight quite arousing. It did not help matters that Daphne's eyes returned to their normal blue color and she gave him a fanged smile.

Her teeth were perfect, and the fangs just added to the perfection. It seemed almost wrong, that an English girl could have teeth like that. Harry's were not in great shape due to the many years of poor maintenance during his childhood. Magic and blood consumption seem to have started their own repair work, but they were hardly like Daphne's.

The blood that was smattered on her lips and cheek added to the appeal greatly. The subconsciously licking of the lips… It was something that a fifteen year old girl should not be doing. It seemed very out of character for what Daphne portrayed herself as normally.

But blood does crazy things for a vampire… things that no mortal could understand and things that Harry still could not fully comprehend as a fledgling blood-drinker. It really was a cure-all, but it was so much more. The term _life-blood_ took on the deepest meaning when it came to vampiric consumption.

Daphne's haze lasted until Harry started snapping his fingers in front of her face. She blinked rapidly a few times before regaining her composure and straightening her clothes.

"Do you feel it?" Harry asked.

Daphne nodded her head. "Yes. The blood tasted so good, far better than the muggle blood from yesterday."

"Try casting something easy," said Harry, and Daphne pulled her wand out from the folds of the cloak.

"_Lumos,"_ Daphne cast with her wand. A faint light emitted from it. "Still weak, but better than nothing."

"The more magical blood we drink, the stronger we get. I wonder how many we have to drain to get back to our former power?"

"I guess there is only one way to find out."

"We have to keep hunting," Harry agreed, "But we have to be careful. We don't want the Ministry becoming suspicious of us. There is quite a trail of bodies already."

"What do you recommend?" asked Daphne.

"By ourselves, it is hard to feast and not kill the prey, but with each other we should be able to leave less bodies. The less dead innocent wizards by our hands, the better. There is not many of them after all, and who knows how long the food supply would last?"

"True. Even at one or two kills a day the population would be gone in a dozen years."

"Yeah," Harry replied with a pensieve look. "Do you know any healing spells? Or blood restoring spells?"

"The incantation _'episkey' _should be able to remove the neck punctures," Daphne responded quickly, "Provided they are still alive. Anything worse than that, we would need a more powerful spell. As for the blood, well, there are blood replenishing potions, but the easiest way is to just let the person rest. The body will replenish its own blood over time, assuming we do not completely drain them."

Harry nodded his head in acceptance. "Alright. Shall we continue hunting then? I want to get back up to my old strength."

"Why stop there? We can go beyond the likes of which the world has ever known." Daphne said those words with a fiery resolve, and Harry found himself attracted to the idea of power through blood. With a nod of his head, Harry and Daphne set out into the night, searching for more sustenance.

* * *

Harry stepped out of the floo and wiped the blood from his face. He had arrived as soon as he could. He simply tossed Daphne some gold and told her to go enjoy herself with it while he attended to business with the Order. There probably were not too many stores open at the hour other than taverns, but Knockturn Alley never sleeps. The safeness of a 15 year old girl in that place alone at night could be debatable though, if she were not a vampire.

Unfortunately, Dumbledore spotted the blood on his face.

"Ovado, are you hurt?"

"No, no. Drunkard took a swing at me when I went to use the floo," Harry replied, "I was in the Alley when I felt the emblem activate."

"Very well then, if you are alright please take a seat. We will begin shortly."

What Harry told him was not the full truth, of course. A drunkard did hit him, but it was an accident. He went to bite the man, but the man stumbled and smacked his head into Harry's nose.

Harry and Daphne had drained a good half dozen people between the two of them, and only accidently killed one of them. Well, the other people were alive when they left them unconscious, and they could have died afterwards from lack of blood, but they were out of sight and out of mind.

The magic that now coursed through Harry's veins was intoxicating. His eyes glowed with unbridled power, but his spells were as still as weak as a first year's. That is an improvement over being as weak as a newborn baby though.

A minute later and Dumbledore spoke up. "Welcome, my friends. If you take a look around you, you will notice roughly have of our number our missing. Take note of everyone's face, for all of you share the same assignment. You are the team that will be guarding Nurmengard. I have already met with the other half of the Order who will be guarding the Department of Mysteries.

"Guarding Grindlewald is a straightforward task. If you see anything amiss, report right away. The only way there is by apparation, and then a half mile walk to the prison tower. If you are not a strong at apparation, then I will help you learn. Since Nurmengard is so far away, multiple stops have to be made."

"Where exactly is this place?" Sturgis Podmore asked.

"Ah, yes. What I am about to tell you is for your ears only. It does not leave this room," said Dumbledore in a very serious tone. "Nurmengard prison is a tower erected near the castle known as Neuschwanstein. It is in a town called Hohenschwangau in Bavaria."

"So it is in Germany then?"

"Correct. Grindlewald's prison cell is the topmost floor of the tower, which stands nearly 500 feet from the ground. Muggles cannot see the tower, even though it looms over the castle often blocking the sun. I must warn you about the castle itself. It is very large, even larger than Hogwarts. Do. Not. Wander. Grindlewald populated the castle with many a foul beast. You will arrive in the courtyard, and you will walk straight ahead to the tower."

"What kind of beasts lurk there?" Black asked, curiously.

"The kind that even I would have trouble defeating," Dumbledore said, killing that train of thought.

Everyone shivered at the casual proclamation. Dumbledore also proceeded to pass out a few maps and pictures of the area.

"Alas, fear not. As long as you do not enter the castle proper you will come to no harm. On the main level of the tower is a control sphere that will take you to any level of the prison. All of your jobs are just to observe Grindlewald and report if you see anything out of the ordinary. You are not to reveal yourselves to him at all. Invisibility cloaks or disillusionment charms are recommended, as are silencing charms. Any questions?"

"Who is going first?"

"Everyone will have a 6 hour shift. We will start with Emmeline, Followed by Sirius, William, Myself, Hestia, Ovado, Sturgis and Aberforth, and then we start back with Emmeline. We will start tonight."

Dumbledore paused for a few seconds, deciding if he forgot to cover anything.

"That is all I have to share with you tonight. Expect a full meeting to happen tomorrow, there have been some unsettling incidents I wish to talk about, but nothing that can't wait. Ovado, please stay behind." The Order members started filling out, except for Sirius. It was his home after all.

Harry sighed to himself, not sure what the Headmaster wanted. "What can I do for you, Headmaster?"

"Nothing major, I assure you," Dumbledore chuckled, "I was just going to offer my services in teaching you how to apparate, as well as how to do a messenger Patronus. Both are highly useful skills."

"Alright," Harry agreed immedietly, "I used to be able to do a fair Patronus, but it has been awhile. Happy emotions are hard to come by these days…"

"Ain't that the truth," Mad-Eye Moody said, coming through the door.

"Ah, Alastor, good of you to join us. I trust you are doing well?"

"As well as can be expected from these old bones. I got you the goods you were looking for," the old Auror said with distaste.

Dumbledore grabbed the offered brown paper bag and took a peek inside. "Ah, excellent. The quality seems to be superb. You have my undying gratitude."

Moody grunted an affirmative as the Headmaster immedietly took one of the lemon drops from the bag and put it into his mouth. "You want an extra hand with the rookie?"

"More the merrier," responded Dumbledore, tasting the muggle candy. "We shall use the dueling room in the basement to practice the Patronus. We will have to go outside the wards for apparation though."

Harry followed the two elder wizards into the gloomy basement. The place was a mess, but Dumbledore fixed that with a wave of his wand.

Dumbledore turned to face him after the room was adequately clean.

"This will be easier if you already know the basics of the spell. Positive thoughts are the key. The trick to the messenger Patronus is that you must incant _'mandatum'_ silently, after the Patronus is cast. Of course, the Patronus needs to be corporeal and that is often the hardest part."

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and silently cast the Patronus. It was in the shape of a phoenix, and looked just as majestic as a piece of magic as it did in the flesh. The Patronus flew over to Harry and explained how to do it once more before disappearing.

"If you would, Alastor?"

"Alright," Moody gruffly replied before casting his Patronus – it was a bear.

"You didn't tell me your Patronus changed?" Dumbledore observed.

"War changes people, Albus. You know that better than most."

"Aye, my friend. Not a day goes by when I think about the families that have been stolen from us. You do put on an impressive façade, it is hard to remember that you lost your family as well to war."

"We all lost someone," Moody replied before changing the topic slightly, "Don't forget that your Patronus has not always been a phoenix either."

"True, true."

"What did it used to be?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

"A kangaroo," Moody responded with a laugh, "Albus has always been eccentric, even by wizarding standards."

"Yes, well, I do like to think it is one of my better traits. A man once told me –"

"Albus…" Moody warned.

"Ah, yes, well I suppose there is always time for stories another day," Dumbledore replied before turning to Harry. "How about you cast your Patronus for us? "

Harry nodded his head. "It has been awhile since I last cast one... _Expecto Patronum!"_

Silvery gray mist shot out of his wand. He was using the same feeling that he used in the previous year for generating the Patronus, but it did not seem to be enough to form it into a cohesive shape. The Patronus cloud kept wavering, and you could almost see limbs sprouting, but they folded back into the mist before it could form. The prospect of living with Sirius and having a real family just did not seem exciting anymore, and was not as powerful of a memory as it used to be.

Harry steeled himself before trying again. He was still using the same memory and feelings as before, as he could not think of anything better. They were no longer as effective in his state of undeath. It took him long enough to get this far the first time he learned the spell, he doubted he had a better memory.

Instead, he simple focused as hard as he could on the feeling during the memory. He let the positive feeling of happiness flow through his body. Even if he no longer had the same happy thoughts as before, he still had the memories of having those feelings, and that would have to be enough. Being a vampire changed his current emotions, but did not affect his past. He kept that in mind as he wrapped himself in positive reinforcement.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _chanted Harry. This time, the silvery cloud was quicker to form, and it congealed into a shape. However, instead of the four-legged stag he was expecting, a winged creature flew in the air in front of him. It was a bat. It was quite large too, larger than most owls.

Harry did not have time to ponder the change in his Patronus as Dumbledore spoke up. "Good. Now intone '_mandatum_' and immedietly tell it the message you want. It is easier to say your message out loud, but if you can cast the Patronus silently, then you can also do the message silently as well."

Harry nodded his head and tried it a few times over the next 30 minutes. He only managed the message spell once but Moody said the message wasn't very audible. Harry thought it could be a power issue.

"I think that shall be enough of that spell for today," said Dumbledore. "It is a very emotionally draining spell, and you seem to have a good grasp of the idea. I think our time would be best spent now if we work on apparation."

"Aye. It looks like you have keen knack for picking up a new spell, most wouldn't be able to handle a Patronus like you did," Moody told Harry.

Dumbledore gave a pointed, but genial look to Moody. "Are you saying I made a good choice in recruitment?"

"Nay," Moody replied curtly, "Just saying that he's got a good head on him, but we shall see how well he can protect it."

"There is time for dueling later, my friend, but I think we should start with the basics of apparition."

"Right, Right. Well, Ministry instructors usually tell you to a simple catchphrase to help you."

"In my days it was Destination, Determination, Deliberation," Dumbledore added helpfully.

"Same rubbish we were taught as well," confirmed Moody.

"Regardless, it is a helpful tool for a beginner."

What then followed was probably the most awkward 30 minutes of Harry's life, even higher up than asking Cho Chang to the Yule Ball. Neither men were very good at teaching apparition, as Moody learned it 70 years ago, and Dumbledore nearly 100. It came second nature to both men, and trying to teach the feeling to someone else was beyond their abilities. The only useful thing Harry learned was some of their past experiences and helpful anecdotes.

Dumbledore actually looked embarrassed they he couldn't help a… plebian… like him any better than Moody could.

Harry himself was focusing on remembering the one time he had apparated in his past, way back when he was in muggle public school being chased by Dudley and his gang. He actually had surprisingly good memory of that incident. He simply remembered _wanting to get away_ from them, and his magic responded. He _desperately wanted_ to get away, and that must be the key.

He dredged up the same feeling, and concentrated on that for several minutes, and when he looked up he was actually about 2 feet away from where he was standing previously. _Destination_ is a two sided meaning, both knowledge of where you are leaving and where you arriving, are equally important to apparition

The headmaster gave a small applause while Moody gave a nod of approval.

"Good. A helpful piece of advice for any spell: trigger words. This can work for your Patronus and many other spells as well. Recognize the feeling you have when performing the spell successfully: the emotions, feelings, your thoughts, and associate those with a word. Repetition is the key, and eventually you should just be able to recall that word in cinch to perform the spell subconsciously."

That made shocking sense to Harry. It was almost like training a dog. "I think I can handle that."

Dumbledore was about to say something else when an ethereal Patronus surged through the wall. Dumbledore seemed to be listening to the message for a few seconds before turning to the other two in the room. "Something urgent has come up with my brother. Continue working with him if you will, Alastor." Dumbledore didn't wait for an acknowledgement before making haste and leaving.

"So kid," Moody said once Dumbledore left, "You get to see Grindlewald in the flesh. How do you feel?"

Harry was unsure what to say to the sudden change of topics.

"Some would kill for that information. Have you read that book from the library here? The magics that library has to offer will help you in ways nothing else can, and can go a long way make sure the secrets in your brain will not be easy for someone to take. The best defense is a good offense, it's just a shame they don't teach that way at Hogwarts."

"I don't fancy going to this place in Bavaria," Harry responded. "I don't think I am ready to apparate that far yet. Some castle called Neuschwanstein… The description Dumbledore gave didn't sound very friendly. Can the magic in those books help me apparate better?"

"They can. Continued use of your magic will make you more focused as well as polarized. Getting to know what your own internal magic feels like is something most witches and wizards never accomplish, but that is what sets us apart from most other wizards. We use our magic, and the magic uses us. We are a part of it. There are many books like the one you have, and they will all help you in this endeavor. But words only get you so far. You need to actually practice the magic to get better. You will be apparating up to the library and across London by the end of the night if I have anything to say about it. I am a harsh trainer, and knowledge of the arcane does not come cheap. Show me what you got!"

Harry did not even realize he let slip the location of Nurmengard to Moody, and even if he did he wouldn't think anything of it. His mind was focusing on the very feeling of magic itself… the 'arcane' as Moody referred to it.

"Focus on my magic…. Sensation of apparition…" Harry muttered to himself.

"Most people say it is like squeezing through a tube," Moody added helpfully.

"Destination, Determination, Deliberation…" Harry was trying to focus on that feeling again, but he was having trouble.

"Come on kid, we don't have all day!" Moody barked.

"Squeezing. Popping!" Harry said the last part loudly, and as he said it, he disappeared and reappeared in the library.

"Damn, that was quick." Moody said to the now empty room. "Kid's got potential even if he doesn't realize it yet."

Moody took careful note of the faint wisps of magic that lingered behind from the apparition. They were dark in color, and vaguely resembled a cloud. He has seen more bizarre things in his day, and he knew that the lingering darkness was a result of practicing with the arcane. They are more potent than the normal magics taught at Hogwarts, and as a result they left a residual after effect.

The thing was though, that you wouldn't notice unless you have also delved into the same magics. It was with a grim smile that Moody apparated to the library as well.

"Good job kid, but that is the easy stuff. Disorientating, ain't it?"

Harry wasn't disoriented, but perhaps that was due to being a vampire. Regardless, he nodded his head.

"Recall that feeling of magic, and we will go back down. Remember the trigger word."

Harry closed his eyes in concentration for another minute before apparating through the floor once more. Moody joined him seconds later.

"Good job, but don't let it go to your head. Any carelessness and you may find yourself without your arse, or even worse, your head." A dark look then came across Moody's eye. "And even worse still… your willy. Trust me, it ain't pretty sight when the Magic Reversal Squad is scouring the country side looking for your todger!"

"Uh…"

"That's right!" Moody laughed, "It all fun and games until you lose your cock! Not that a young lad such as yourself has any need for it… Now then! Let's see if you can apparate all the way to King's Cross. I trust you know where that is?

"Yes."

"Good," Moody responded. "By your leave."

Harry concentrated hard on the location, and then started to recall the squeezing feeling and the large popping sound you hear upon winking into existence from the displacement of air. To seal the deal, he chose the trigger word _apparate_. It doesn't get any simpler than that, and with an influx of magic, Harry disappeared from the library and into the train station.

Harry quickly spun around and noticed that there was still quite a few muggles lingering around, but none of them seemed to even notice his arrival, and as of two seconds ago, Moody's arrival either. It wasn't for lack of noise either, since both of their apparition's did not qualify as soft sounding.

"Why didn't they hear us?" Harry asked.

Moody gave him an incredulous look. "They don't know that apparition makes a sound, so they simply don't hear it."

"That makes no sense."

"Muggles don't hear nothin', nor see nothin' they can't explain. Ignorance is bliss to them…" Moody started to walk off in one direction before turning around and shouting, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE! It is one's lack of awareness that will lose you a leg, your nose, your eye…"

Moody simply taped each body part in question before trotting off down the lane.

"Where we going?" Harry asked.

"Getting some grub. Muggles aren't as likely to poison me."

"Why don't you eat at headquarters?"

"I don't trust nothing with that bastard Snape has been around," the grizzled auror replied curtly. Harry couldn't fault the man on that reasoning.

* * *

Harry arrived back at his flat, via the floo. His magic was pretty drained, as was his emotionally deadened mind. He couldn't muster up enough magic or willpower to apparate for the 50th time in one day.

It seemed like vampires were not built for apparating at all. He struggled to apparate father than the mile or so to King's Cross, and he felt as if all of his magic power was drained from him. While that was not true, his spells were definitely weaker than they were before going to the Order meeting.

If he didn't feed on magical blood beforehand, Harry doubted he would have been able to do it at all. It's funny how things work out like that. He was worried about how the hell he was supposed to get all the way to Nurmengard. He was desperately hoping for an alternative. He even wished for a portkey, despite loathing them. The legalities of unregistered and unauthorized international portkeys and their traceability are unwise to chance, considering where he needed to go with it.

What he needed was more time, or rather, more power. And to get more power, he needed more blood. He needed to get his magic up to some sort of plateau, or a stable level. He needed to get to the point where using magic for just a few hours will not tap into his overall supply too much.

Harry was looking forward to just lying down, despite not being physically tired. He was mentally tired, and just wanted to take a few minutes of his night to sort through his extraneous thoughts and get his mind in order.

At the end of the night Moody started to go over some of the spells that Harry looked at in the book, but it wasn't long before Moody sent Harry home for being a liability to both of them in his exhausted state.

It was past 4 AM, which Harry found surprising. Neither him nor Moody were paying attention to the time, but surely that isn't the normal time for Moody to stay up to.

He looked around his flat, searching for any sign of what Daphne occupied her time with. Nothing seemed out of place, at least until he arrived at the room she has claimed as her own.

Daphne was sitting in a large, comfortable looking chair. The chair was a lot more elegant than any that came with the flat, so it was either bought, or transfigured.

The girl was also wearing a silk summer dress with varying swirling shades of blue and green. The dress was riding halfway up her thigh as she browsed through a thick tome. Harry forced himself to not look as he sat down in one of the other chairs and picked up a book as well.

Harry looked at the title before commenting, "_Arcane Armaments_? I see you have been busy."

Daphne looked up from her book, titled Alchemist's Almanac 1860-1870. "Hello to you too, Potter."

"You managed to find enough stores to buy all this during the night?" Harry asked, gesturing to the piles of miscellany that had accumulated in the scant 5 hours he was gone. There were more containers and books than he cared to count, along with tools he recognized from the Alchemy supply store, but what caught his attention the most was the small cauldron that was set up on the floor.

The contents of it were currently boiling, and he eyed the fire that was lit under it suspiciously. It was right on top of the flammable carpet, but it looked like Daphne was at least careful and smart enough to lay down a protective charm to prevent the floor from catching fire. He was thankful of the small details.

"Watcha making?" Harry asked, peering into the cauldron. He didn't recognize the contents.

"Blood replenisher. I figure it could come in handy."

Harry nodded his head absent mindedly while inspect several vials that were set on the desk. A few of them appeared to have a red liquid in them. He opened the lid before taking a sniff.

"Blood?" Harry asked rhetorically. "Smells fresh."

"It is. About 30 minutes old," the vampiress responded with a smile before going back into her book.

"Oh." Harry put the vial back when he found it. It looked like Daphne was planning on doing something with the blood, based on the fact that she did not drink it. "You know much of Alchemy?" Harry asked, pointing at the various bits around the room.

"Not really. I saw your book on the table," she replied, gesturing to Alchemical Transmutations of the 4thOrder, "So I decided to see what it was all about."

She simply shrugged.

"And what is your conclusion?"

Daphne gave Harry an incredulous look. "It will take more than a few hours of reading a few random books to learn about alchemy. I am no more informed now than I was before today. It's very complicated, and I have just been looking at past accomplishments in the field to figure out exactly what the point of it all is. The majority of Alchemy involves skills and knowledge that are not taught at Hogwarts, as they are very advanced, and way beyond me. All I can say is that more study is required, but more than likely I won't be able to do much with it for a long time to come."

"And all this?" Harry asked, gesturing to the various odds and ends in the room.

"Tools to perform some experiments with. I didn't know what exactly I needed, so I bought a little bit of everything," replied Daphne, slightly embarrassed. "I should be able to make some of the entry level concoctions. Not all of this is alchemy stuff though. Some of it is potion ingredients. Seeing how we won't be going to Hogwarts, I took it upon myself to buy what we needed for the curriculum this year, minus all the useless stuff."

Harry looked at Daphne in a new light after that. Apparently Daphne was a prettier, less crazy and obsessed version of Hermione. She was far more composed, and did everything methodically and with a distinct elegance. Of course, she did have her own quirks, the most obvious being her vampirism.

"Is there any money left over? All of this couldn't be cheap."

Daphne shrugged unconcerned while pointing over at a bag at the table. Harry opened it up and saw that it was at least half empty. He wasn't going to bitch about it though, as what she bought would most likely be useful for some time to come.

"If it's any consolation, I am not used to having a 'budget' to adhere to with my shopping, coming from an old pureblood family… but on the other hand I've never really spent more than 50 galleons in one day."

"Eh, don't worry about it. We can always get more money if we need it."

"Alright then," Daphne responded, not defending her actions any more, or easing his mind. "You learn anything useful from this meeting? Where exactly did you go?"

"Well, the location is charmed so I couldn't tell you even under truth serum. The place is unexciting and very dirty, having been uninhabited for a dozen years. It's the last place you would expect the Order of the Phoenix to meet, and frankly, I think that may be part of the reason why Dumbledore is using it.

"Regardless of all that, I get to travel to Nurmengard several times over the next few weeks to watch over Grindlewald."

Daphne raised one of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows before responding, "Gellert Grindlewald? I thought he was dead."

"So did I, and so does the rest of the world. It is one of Dumbledore's dirty secrets, one of many I am sure, but he wants us to watch over the prison so he doesn't try a dramatic escape during the 50th anniversary of his defeat."

"Do you honestly think if he could have escaped, he would not have done it earlier?" Daphne said incredulously.

"I'm not the one who came up with the idea. Apparently this place was built by Grindlewald himself, so Dumbledore thinks that he may have a contingency plan to escape. But I agree with you. I think Grindlewald would have escaped when he was still young. I think Grindlewald was probably too cocky with his own power, and could not even imagine a one in a million chance of him being locked up in his own prison. Dumbledore did admit that Grindlewald was stronger and more knowledgeable than him at the time, but he used simplicity to win."

"I must admit, I am slightly envious of your position."

"Why's that?" Harry asked curiously.

"You get to meet the most fearsome Dark Lord in mankind's history, without threat of being killed yourself. Think of the knowledge he must have…"

"Lot of good it did him in the end. Anyways, the preferred choice of arrival to the prison is apparition, so I spent a few hours with Dumbledore and Moody learning it. It is very difficult, and quite a drain on my magic with repeated use."

"Really? How far did you manage?" Daphne asked excitedly. "And do you think you can teach me?"

"A few miles was the best I could manage, and I doubt I could teach you. Moody and Dumbledore were rubbish at teaching it, being old geezers, so I had to remember an incident with my accidental magic when I was younger: I accidently apparated onto my school's roof. The bigger problem is that Grindlewald's prison is well over a thousand miles away, and I could barely go one."

"Yeah, I could see how that is a problem," responded Daphne, as she pulled a piece of parchment over towards her before picking up a quill, "Tell me though, As you were apparating farther, did you feel an increase strain on your magic? Or was it an equal amount the whole time?"

Harry scratched his chin in thought for a second while he watched the girl write. She started off with a header 'Apparition' before scribbling some notes underneath it.

"Well, I think it was the same amount of magic every time, no matter the distance or how many buildings I went through."

"Hmmm, then logically you need to simply refine your technique more."

"Thanks" Harry replied dryly, "You are worse than Hermione."

Daphne's head snapped up. "Never compare me with that mudblood!"

Harry saw that her wand was pointing at him before he could even blink and he raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Whoa, calm down, I meant it as a compliment. Besides, she likes to be overbearing and throw a lot of extraneous knowledge down my throat, and you have done no such thing. Let's not forget that 'mudblood' gives us magical power just like pure blood. Not much point in discriminating when it all tastes the same."

"True." She conceded as she lowered her wand. She was about to say something else but Harry cut her off.

"Death does not discriminate. Purebloods, halfbloods, mudbloods, muggles, they all die just the same."

"Yes, yes, I get it. I just dislike being compared to _her_ of all people. She does not have exclusive rights to studying magic, no matter how much she may think so."

Harry did not want to get into an argument over his friend, so he tried to change subjects. He did wonder briefly if her temper was a result of her overindulgence of blood, or if she was always like that.

"Er, anyways…"

"Yeah."

"I also learned how to send a message using a Patronus."

"Really? I've never heard of such a thing."

"It is a spell modification that Dumbledore himself created. My Patronus isn't nearly as good as it was when I was alive though, and I didn't really come away successful."

"You know, it is normal for a witch or wizard to not be able to cast one of the most complicated spells known during their first try."

"I've always been better at practical spellwork than theory. Can you do one?" Harry asked curiously.

Daphne shook her head. "I could not think of a memory that was good enough."

"That is probably the hardest part of the spell. It took me ages to think of a good enough memory to create a corporeal Patronus."

"What is your memory?"

"That is a very personal question."

"Oh…" Daphne replied, with a slight smile and faint blush.

"And not like _that_ either." Harry replied, rolling his eyes at her obvious conclusion. "I got offered a real home and a family, and that is the most emotional thing anyone has ever done for me."

Daphne was not quite sure what to say to that, and she held back a retort about his Hogwarts house being a bunch of emotional idiots.

"So answer me this Potter. Why did you join that organization? Dumbledore is the sole reason why your life went down the shitter."

"Simple. When the time comes, I am going to kill him. I will drain that bastard of every last drop of blood he has and take his magic as my own."

Daphne merely smiled in response.

* * *

Author's notes

I apologize for the long wait in between chapters, and for the lack of action in this one. I've been mucking about with this chapter for awhile now, and while it is not perfect, I have gotten sick of looking at it so I decided I just want to get on with the rest of the story. It is not my best edited chapter by far, but I have gone through it half a dozen times and can do no more without wanting to rip out my eyeballs. I feel like this chapter did add some insight into some of the characters, and into the inner workings of a vampire. I know I have a problem keeping the spellings of 'apparition' and 'Nurmengard' and I will go back through previous chapters to correct it.

Chapter 12 is already planned out, as is the majority of the story, but I have yet to actually start writing it. I will tell you that you will get your first sneak peak at Nurmengard, and also introduced to new magics. Alchemy will not have a roll in the story until later, and for this chapter I was just trying to show you what kind of witch Daphne is. She is a 'traditionalist' when it comes to pureblooded ideals, but she is not a fanatic in the way that the Malfoy's are or any other follower of the dark lord. She has reasons and facts for believing what she believes in, which is more than most can say.

As for what I have been doing between updates on this story. Well, the obvious answer is reading. I have also done writing though. I have started two other stories, one of which may get posted. See my profile for more info on that. Also worth mentioning is that I have been bogged down with college work for awhile, and it is probably not going to get better.

What to expect next? The next chapter of this story hasn't even been started yet, but chapter 14 in 'The Root of All Evil' has! It has been awhile since I updated that story, and I am feeling it, so expect that story to be my next update. I have been sitting on slightly altered versions of c1-4 of that story for awhile now. I plan on updating them to coincide with the new chapter. Nothing changes plotwise, but I just added more depth overall and corrected some logical fallacies. I will probably do chapters 14,15,16 in a row just because they are all closely related, and then chapters 12 and 13 in this one, and then after that it is anyone's guess.

Sorry to disappoint the people actually interested in my other HP/DG story, along with the Harry/Fem!blaise, but I haven't given any thoughts to either of those recently. The hp/dg in particular is too whimsical, and the characters too overpowered but undeveloped personality-wise, at least for the first story. They are note abandoned, or on hiatus, but HoB and RoaL are on the top of my list of things to do.

As usual, helpful reviews are welcomed, especially the kind that show grammar and spelling mistakes.


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